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THE TALE OF 
A HUNDRED YEARS 


THE STORY OF FOUR GENERATIONS, MARCHAND, HIS 
DAUGHTER, GRANDDAUGHTER, AND GREAT 
GRANDSON, THE HERO OF THIS TALE 


BY 

PATTIE STONE 


THE BROWN PRINTING COMPANY 
MONTGOMERY, ALi A , 

1022 



All Rights Reserved by the Writer 

i 

Published 1922 


©cueao3°8 

/ 0 - 

DEC 19 'll 




A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


The sun shone a deep dark red that summer day, and glint- 
ed like ground steel on the sands of Dauphine Island. 

Since the removal of the seat of government to Mobile the 
Island had ceased to be the place of importance that it had 
been, yet, in a sense, it was still a place of considerable at- 
traction. The manor house was there, and it suited the new 
Governor, with his family, to occupy this picturesque cot- 
tage built of palm logs, with its garden of lemon trees, young- 
olives and fig bushes. It was still a fort, with four barracks 
of palisades, and its guard house and prison. But the Island 
Sanctuary, the home of the Ursuline Nuns, was to be carried 
to Mobile. No more would they meet there at Mass, or Ves- 
pers. Inside the small Chapel Indian girls chanted, for the 
last time, the Ava Maria taught them by Sister Francis Lou- 
ise, and dark-hued face warriors listened and watched. 

After the service the last one to leave was an Indian wo- 
man, and she loitered under the shadow of the thatched cov- 
ered chapel waiting for Father LaVente to come out. The 
women belonged to the Natchez Indians living upon the Mis- 
sissippi River. This tribe once inhabited a portion of the 
Mexican empire, but on account of Spain ; fled from their coun- 
try and wandered northeast, finally settling upon the bluff 
where now stands the present city of Natchez. These Indians 
were sun worshipers, and at the coming of the French to 
Louisiana still retained the religious rites and customs of the 
Mexicans. The Natchez Chiefs were far more haughty and 
despotic than the Chiefs of any of the other Southern tribes. 
This Natchez woman waiting for Father LaVente to come 
out had come all the way from the White Apple Village upon 
the Mississippi to^see this priest on Dauphine Island. Her 
boat was on the shore, and faithful boatmen awaited her 
mission with the father fulfilled when they were to bear her 
back to the Natchez Village, from which place she would re- 
turn to her own village, the White Apple. 

When the priest came out and offered his hand to her, she 
said, “How are you called?” 

“I am known as Father LaVente,” he answered. “I am 
known as Stung Arm,” she replied. “Yes;” said the Jesuit., 


4 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


'‘what is your errand to me?” “I am come,” she said, “to 
take you back with me to the Natchez country.” 

“And why, my daughter, do you desire that I should go that 
long journey into the Natchez country?” “To marry me to 
my French gallant,” she said. 

Father LaVente looked closer at the woman and directly 
felt her to be a person of wealth, and station. Directing his 
gaze towards her boat, that was a broad barge, well manned, 
he conceived the idea that the opportunity had presented 
itself to go into the vast country that lay to the west. The 
Jesuit knew that the Sieur de Bienville, royal lieutenant of 
the province of Louisiana, bitterly opposed marriage of 
French and Indians, and he knew that in reality Bienville’s 
power, ’though second in command, exceeded the power of 
the new Governor, the Sieur Lemotte Cadillac. It was when 
France groaned under wars at home, during the latter part 
of Louis 14th’s reign, that the Grand Monarch turned his 
Southern province over to Antoine Crozat. 

It was then the King granted to Crozat, for the term of 
fifteen years, all the country known as the Colony of Louis- 
iana, with all her lakes, rivers and islands, her mines and all 
her commerce, and agreed to appropriate fifty thousand livres 
annually toward the payment of his officers and troops. For 
these privileges Antoine Crozat agreed “to appropriate one- 
fourth of the proceeds of the mines of precious metals to the 
King’s use ; to forfeit the lands which were granted to him, 
if the improvements of manufactories which he placed upon 
them be abandoned or cease to exist ; to import from Guinea a 
certain number of slaves annually into the colony, and to send 
every year two ships of emigrants to Louisiana from France.” 

Under the regime of this wealthy Parisian merchant, the 
present Governor was appointed. The priest fearing to of- 
fend Lieutenant Bienville put the responsibility of marrying 
this Indian woman, Stung Arm, to her French gallant upon 
the new Governor. With kindly sounding words he said to 
her, “My daughter, I feel much for you, and would freely 
marry you to the Frenchman, but I am only a lowly servant, 
serving the church of the Holy Mother. But I will go with 
you to the good Governor’s house, where he awaits to hear 
you speak, and if he bids me join you in holy wedlock to your 
own heart’s choosing it will make me both happy and <rlad 
to do so.” 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


5 


On the way to the manor house the Jesuit and the Indian 
woman passed directly under the rush covered palisade of 
the fort where the hot sun on the shore had driven the garri- 
son to seek the shade. In their soldier clothes the men seem- 
ed very grand to the woman and she could not conceal her 
admiration ; especially did she gaze at Captain Marchand 
whose trim and graceful figure in blue uniform with white 
facings was enough to attract the gaze of any woman. His 
cavalier's hat resting upon his heavy suit of dark hair, worn 
curling and loose, added to the charm that seemed so alluring 
to Stung Arm; and she stumbled and seemed about to fall 
had not the Jesuit father reached out his hand and brought 
her to her feet. He did it in an angry way, and the soldiers 
heard him say, “Look not with admiration upon them, my 
daughter ; they are but gamesters, and blasphemers of the 
Holy name of God, and have no mind to connect themselves 
with any woman by honorable marriage.” 

“They look well, Father LaVente,” the woman answered, 
“they look well.” “Turn your eyes away, my child, be not 
caught by looks.” 

“So ho!” laughed the Chevalier de Noyan, “Monsieur pe’re 
is jealous of us and fain would blind the maiden to our 
beauty.” 

The woman smiled into the laughing eyes of the young 
Canadian and trudged on after the priest. 

The loveliest comfort was found at the Governor's house. 
Under the shade of an arbor porch the family sat sipping 
lemonade that was served in crystal mugs, and passed around 
by two Indian boys. These boys came from the Illinoise 
country. They were brought down by a band of Shawnees, 
and sold to the French. They wore smooth faces, for the 
family was kind to them and they much preferred the French 
as masters to the Shawnees of the Ohio. 

Under the shade of the arbor sat the Governor in negligee 
dress of white, looking into tKe face of his beautiful wife with 
their children’s faces turned towards them. The sweet per- 
fume of tropical plants was about them, and from the porch 
there was a beautiful view of the Bay; smooth like glass. 
The ripened fruit of the fig, with golden lemons, beautified a 
cypress table standing against the wall of the house. When 
Father LaVente, with Stung Arm, came in, after greetings, 
Madame Cadillac rolled back a loose thin sleeve high up on 


6 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


her arm and from the basket resting on the cypress table 
began to crush some lemons. The golden fruit, under white 
hands, caught the eye of the Jesuit father and he watched 
in silence the fruit, and the hands, and the rounded curves 
of the fair woman’s well-shaped arms. But directly he felt 
his own arm slightly pinched by Stung Arm, who whispered 
‘Turn away, Father LaVente, turn away, be not caught by 
looks.” 

This picturesque porch led into a hall that did duty for a 
place to serve the meals in and as parlor besides. In the centre 
of this room, at the meal time fine damask, and silver, marked 
with the family arms, covered the plain table. Too warm for 
skins and blankets, cool mattings rested upon the puncheon 
floors, and cane seated chairs grouped about. From candle 
sticks of burnished brass myrtle wax candles shed their clear 
light when in the evening the officers of the fort gathered 
with the family for cards. From this place small bed rooms 
led out in considerable numbers and completed the Governor’s 
house. Out in the yard stood a large shed kitchen where 
well-trained servants prepared the family meals. Monsieur 
Lemotte Cadillac, born and bred in France, of noble family, 
came to Canada as a soldier fighting the English. He won 
military honors, married somewhere in the northwest his 
lovely wife, and often when his highest hopes were seemingly 
realized the reality would vanish like an empty bubble; and 
so he had drifted from one post of honor to another, never 
satisfied to give his time to his duties, yet, by his distinction 
in different ways he was a considerable power. He was a 
little past middle age, but in his hair there were no silver 
threads and the wrinkles on his swathy face seemed more 
to be lines of intolerance than furrows of time. He had seen 
much of life and manners in France, and carried himself in 
a graceful way, and he had his friends, but he had made a 
grand failure in the northwest just as he was making in Louis- 
iana — all from poor judgment and selfish aims. He had no sym- 
pathy for Bienville’s colonial hopes. The advancement of the 
colony interfered with his own private pursuits. Here on 
Dauphine Island he was planning to set up a little kingdom 
— just as he’d dreamed to do at Fort Pontchartrain. 

He advised the selling of liquor to the Indians, and as Bien- 
ville bitterly opposed it, the priesthood, saving LaVente, were 
opposed to Governor Cadillac. 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


7 


It was claimed that LaVente owned a wine shop and that 
he saw no wrong in a priest making a little for himself. Na- 
turally then, he and the Governor were congenial and often 
advised with each other. 

The real goodness of Madam Cadillac made her a favor- 
ite with every one and it was easy enough to say pleasant 
things to her but it was right hard to scold her and Father 
LaVente wanted to rebuke her. 

It was when the Governor was saying how utterly distaste- 
ful his life in the province would be were it not for his wife 
who was capable of' making the most miserable abode a place 
of comfort that the priest said, “Your wife is magnificent, 
my son, only, perhaps she is a little too indulgent to her 
loved ones. I know it was her desire to attend our last ser- 
vice on the Island but to indulge the home she denied her- 
self and stayed away. But I have only a moment to stay in 
this little Paradise. As you well know Bienville forbids the 
French to marry Indians by religious rites. We mission- 
aries so often find our hands tied and useless to a people who 
have a right to demand our services.” 

“Have you come to me, Father, for permisson to marry 
this Indian woman to a Frenchman?” said the Governor. 
“You speak my errand, my son.” “You have my permission, 
Father, to marry this woman to a Frenchman, if he so 
chooses.” After a slight pause Governor Cadillac continued: 
“It is to France’s interest to have the artisan wedded to In- 
dian women ; it forms a bond which makes it safer for us to 
live here, and helps to settle wandering vagabonds. Who is 
the woman’s gallant?” 

“I know not, she comes from the Natchez country.” 

“Would she have you journey there for this?” 

“I have long desired this opportunity, my son.” 

“Ah, well.” 

Here the conversation ceased a moment by the coming in 
of General Diron P’Artaguette. Both priest and Governor 
knew the nobleman, D’Artaguette, to be warmly attached to 
the royal lieutenant, and they knew that the General had 
declared to the king, that “all the accusations brought against 
Bienville are most miserable calumnies.” 

At the appearing of Bienville’s friend the Governor as- 
sumed his courtly air, always touched with haughtiness, and 
the Jesuit father his priestly mien. After the new guest was 


8 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


welcomed and had been served with refreshments the Gov- 
ernor said, “Father LaVente, I have a trip planned into the 
Illinois country, let us journey together as far as the Natchez 
Village.” 

“I would be happy at such arrangement,” answered the 
priest. “My darling,” said the Governor, turning to his wife, 
“it kills me to leave you here, and the children. May the 
saints direct me to the mines I feel sure exist in this other- 
wise desolate country. Without gold we cannnt know life.” 
Turning to General D’Artaguette he said, “When I married, 
nearly twenty years ago, I wanted to take my bride to Paris. 
I waited, thinking later we would go with the wealth that 
would enable us to occupy the position that my birth, and 
my nature demanded. I am waiting still.” 

“Oh, but we have had a happy life here, together my dear,” 
said his wife. 

“And the beauty of the bride has never waned,” said the 
General most gallantly. * * * The priest was very eager to 
see the religious rites practiced by the Natchez Indians but 
the Governor cared nothing about it. But at Father La- 
Vente’s persuasions he tarried a day and night at the Natchez 
village. These Indians built their cabins in the shape of pa- 
vilions, rough cast with clap, both inside and out. The one 
occupied by the Grand Sun was very large and fronted the 
square. The temple stood at the side of this cabin. In this 
temple the fire burned night and day and was never allowed 
to go out. In there were kept the bones of the deceased 
Chiefs, and in there they offered human sacrifices. Passing 
Chief White Earth’s cabin, the Governor saw an Indian girl 
spinning a beautiful cord. He stopped and asked her for what 
purpose was she spinning this rare and beautiful cord. She 
replied, “This cord will be used to strangle the ones who are 
offered in sacrifice at the death of our Grand Sun.” Angrily 
the Governor answered the spinner ; and in abuse of her ruler. 
“His subjects crave the favor,” the girl replied, pale with 
fright. Turning in disgust upon the Chiefs who had as- 
sembled to invite the “White Fathers” into their Council 
House to drink tea, and to smoke, the Governor declared 
to them, in scorn, that never would he condescend to drink 
tea and smoke with devils who practiced such vile customs 
and he strode himself angrily to his boats. In rage the Chiefs 
swore to be revenged upon the French for the insult. No 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


9 


sooner were the boats out of sight than White Earth was 
appointed to choose him a band to murder the French fami- 
lies but lately settled upon the river below the Natchez Vil- 
lage. * * * The Indians had intended to keep this massacre 
from the French authorities, but Father Davion who was do- 
ing missionary work in the Natchez country learned of it, 
and dispatched a messenger to Bienville. Immediately Bien- 
ville at the head of his soldiers marched upon the Natchez to 
revenge the French and save them from further massacres. 
At this time he was camped upon Mobile Bay, building large 
canoes to be used as transports, for the King had ordered 
the building of a colonial establishment upon the Mississippi. 

The murder of the French at the hands of White Earth, 
and his band, had been complete, save the Creole lad, Adolphe 
Raoul. This child was born in the colony and was but little 
younger than Claude Jousset, the first child born in the prov- 
ince. The Raoul’s boy was pet of Bienville’s as the lad, 
Claude Jousset was. When the Indians came stealthily upon 
the Raoul’s home to murder its inmates, and burn it, Adolphe 
was not in the house as the rest of the family were. It was in 
the spring of the year and he was out in the woods. At the 
foot of a long leaf pine he had found a bed of flowers that 
were both strange and beautiful and resembled little white 
pipes exquisitely moulded, and in material, resembled the tube 
rose. Delighted, the child was carefully taking up the flow- 
ers to carry to the house for his sick father to see when sud- 
denly the war-whoop burst upon his ear. He had ever been 
told to run in the woods and hide at approach of savage dan- 
ger and he instantly concealed himself in a dense growth of 
vines that grew near him. There was only a perfect still- 
ness at the house after the first wild whoop, until Adolphe 
heard the flames roaring above the cabin home. So stealth- 
ily and rapidly did the Indians do their work and disappear 
that it was all ovey before the child had fairly caught his 
breath. It was then a monk, in gray cloak and cowl, ap- 
proached Adolphe. “Father Davion,” said the lad in a dazed 
way, “Father Davion, where — ” for answer the monk seized 
the child’s hand and bore him rapidly from the scene. The 
monk had just left the Raoul’s home and was in the first 
clump of woods from the house when he heard the whoop. 
He knew by the voices there were at least a dozen Indians, 
yet he hid himself to await results and give assistance if pos- 


10 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


sible. Peeping through the bushes he saw the Indians run 
from the house out into the yard waving aloft the scalps of 
Mr. and Mrs. Raoul, with the infant by the heels, which they 
dashed against the side of the house. Already the flames 
were pouring through the roof, made of rushes, and the 
band waited to see the flames consume the clothes of their 
dead victims inside, then pitched the baby into the burning 
mass and glided into the woods. Father Davion had seen 
Adolphe flee to his place of refuge; seeking him, they fled 
to the White Apple Village where Stung Arm offered the 
boy protection while Father Davion proceeded to warn the 
settlers living higher up the river. 

When Bienville with his soldiers reached the region of the 
trouble he established himself upon an island in the Missis- 
sippi river where he built a fort, and called the settlers, and 
friendly Indians to assist him against the Natchez. So many 
Indians allied themselves with the French that the Natchez, 
frightened, sought to make a peace with Bienville. 

After mutual misunderstandings, productive of cruel deeds 
of both sides, Bienville at last made peace with them, provided 
“they bound themselves to kill White Earth, to restore all 
the goods which they had stolen, to cut three thousand piles 
of acacia wood, to assist in building a fort near Natchez Vil- 
lage, and to furnish the bark of cypress trees for covering 
the fort.” With peace established the colonists breathed 
freer. But Bienville ever fearful of the massacre of his sol- 
diers sent his brother Chateaugue tol Mobile to plead with the 
Governor for a stronger garrison. It was the evening of 
Chateaugue’s arrival at Mobile and the officers from the 
forts were grouped about the small tables of Madame Cor- 
put’s wine shop, drinking and chatting. Near the door at 
the front, by themselves, was Bagot, and Villiers, waiting for 
their friend, the Governor, to come in, while farthest down 
the room was the new Commissary General, Duclos, and Riche- 
bourg. The latter was in Mobile recovering from a wound 
received in the late war with the Natchez. 

Directly the Governor, in court uniform, haughty and im- 
perious, strode into the room and seated himself alone, before 
a table, and in his arrogant way ordered a goblet of wine. 
His friends, Bagot and Villiers, anxious to be in his presence 
immediately left their own table for his. At sight of them 
a warm glow came into his swarthy face and there flashed 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


11 


from his dark eyes such a generous welcome that even his 
enemies felt the charm of his presence. But very soon the 
old gloom returned to his face. Looking down the room at 
the table of Duclos and Richebourgh, and the Chevalier Noyan 
who had just come in, his lip curled as he called out to them 
if they could tell him the whereabouts of the King’s lieuten- 
ant. “If you have reference to Lieutenant Bienville,” an- 
swered Duclos, “he is at present busily engaged in strengthen- 
ing the forts along the Mississippi.” To this Bagot said, 
“From what I had heard I was led to suppose that Monsieur 
was generally engaged in striking off Indian heads.” “Bien- 
ville is acting like a lunatic,” said Villiers. Following this 
the Governor abused everything connected with the colonial 
government ; declaring that Louisiana was a monster which 
had neither head nor tail. “Never would I have set foot in 
this accursed country had I thought to see it a land of garden 
patches for the servants of the Old World.” With reddened 
face he continued, “I am violently opposed to these settle- 
ments upon the Mississippi ; I am violently opposed to these 
settlements upon the Mississippi ; the river is too crooked, 
too rapid in high tides, and too low in the dry seasons for 
even the navigation of a bateau.” 

“Governor,” said Boisbriant, “it behooves us to build strong 
forts along the Mississippi. It behooves us to do nothing 
of the kind !” cried the Governor. “The King commands it !” 
said young Noyan in breathless anger. At this, the Governor 
glared at the Chevalier with so much of fury that he might 
have consumed him had not his servant appeared at his side 
with a message that called him to his hotel. Scarce was he 
gone from the wineshop when Chateaugue came in. With 
the Governor in his present temper it was well that Bien- 
ville’s brother came in late, yet as it was, Cadillac refused 
to place at Bienville’s disposal the number of soldiers desig- 
nated by the King. 


To drive back the English who were encroaching upon 
French soil Bienville obtained the consent of the Colonial 
Council at Mobile to establish a fort near the head waters of 
the Alabama River. In this region dwelt the aristocracy of 
the great Muscogee Nation, and in this neighborhood were 
the wealthiest and most populous Indian towns. Where the 


12 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


Coosa River makes a half-circle bend to turn the dying foot 
hills of the Appalachian mountain range Bienville selected a 
site for the new fort. With him, to establish the fort, were 
Priests, Frenchmen, Canadians and Indians. Father Andre, 
and Father LaVente led the crew and bore a white cross and 
planted it upon a bluff under the shadow of a great long leaf 
pine. In contrast to the dark green of the over-shadowing 
tree the Cross looked like a White Glory, and the men pros- 
trated themselves around it and the priests chanted a holy 
service. After which, beside the Cross, they bore the Royal 
Standard and took possession of the dreamy valleys and mys- 
tic hills in the name of the King of France. Then the ground 
for the fort was laid off, and song of artisan and woodman’s 
axe disturbed the stillness and hushed the song of the rip- 
pling river. Birds that were nesting near felt the jar and 
chirruped in fear. A young deer, sucking close to Father 
Andre, lifted its head and listened a moment, and then with 
the mother bounded away. 

When night was come, Bienville said, “ ’Tis into the boats 
we live until the fort is finished.” Scarce had he spoken 
when a lighted arrow flashed into the night, followed by oth- 
ers until there was a beautiful display of fire-works. The sig- 
nal fires from neighboring towns very quickly answered the 
lighted arrows, and then the voyagers knew that their com- 
ing was known throughout the land, and they thought of 
the time when once before the Pale-faces had passed that 
way to go to their doom. 

From the hills the gleaming camp-fires of the red tenants 
of the woods shone like golden wheels. It was the way the 
logs were placed that gave the fires such an appearance. 
The logs lay on the ground like the spokes in a wheel, and as 
the ends at the center burned away each log was evenly push- 
ed up and evenly burned. 

Soon next morning, before the officers were up, a band of 
Indians from the south side of the boats came up and asked 
to see “The White Chiefs.” When they were told the “White 
Chiefs” were asleep, they grunted and sat down on the 
ground. 

These Indians were not in war-dress. No gleaming knives 
girded their waists, nor bore they spear, or battle axe. As 
simple huntsmen they came with bows unstrung and the 
barbs of the arrows removed. 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


13 


When the officers were awake and they had finished break- 
fast they sent a message to the red Chief to come into the boat 
that, “the White Fathers might know the meaning of his visit.” 
When the Chief came in he said, “Temathlemingo would 
know the Grand Chief.” 

When Bienville advanced, the Indian said, “We seek the 
friendship of the White Father from Mobile. We hear he 
is kind of heart and fair in his dealings with the Red men — 
the Choctaws tell us so.” When he had said this he un- 
fastened a belt from around his waist and handed it to Bien- 
ville, saying as he did it, “Accept our seal of friendship.” 
Bowing in grateful acknowledgment of the gift, Bienville 
accepted it. After smoking, Bienville said, “Chief, we are 
strangers in your land, tell us of your people, and of the 
neighboring tribes. I fear we will not find all the tribes com- 
ing to our camps as simple huntsmen of the forests, offering 
us their friendship.” For a minute the Indian was silent and 
then he told the story of his people, the Alabamas. It was a 
cruel story of how the powerful and ever aggressive Musco- 
gees had wrested from the Alabamas the beautiful rivers 
and valleys and hills of the region, and while they had not 
made common slaves of them as they had made of the Oc- 
mulgees, Oconees, Uchees and other tribes, they had killed 
many of them, and conquered them as a nation. They had 
driven them from their clearings upon the Coosa and Talla- 
poosa rivers and established themselves in their villages, and 
forced them to join in the war they were waging against 
the Cherokees. 

“The Cherokees are a most powerful people,” said Bien- 
ville to the red Chief, “think you, Temathlemingo, the Mus- 
cogee will conquer or drive out these people?” 

“I fear me so,” said the Chief, sadly. 

“If you think so, does it not behoove the French to early 
seek a friendship with these powerful Muscogees?” “It would 
be vain to resist them, White Father.” 

“Tell me, my brother, how near are we to these people?” 

“It is but the walk of a papoose to the border of the Hick- 
ory Ground, the town of their queen.” 

“Ah !” 

“But trust me,” said the honest red man, “you need feel 
no fear of her if you but bow in submission to her will, and 


14 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


become a part of her nation, and make her gifts as we red 
tenants do.” 

“Thank you, Temathlemingo, your talk is good,” said Bi- 
enville, “and it is my pleasure to have you meet the officers 
who will govern the fort when it is finished.” 

In turn Bienville introduced to the Indian, Captain March- 
and, Lieutenant Villemont, Ensign Paque and Henride Wolfe. 

“How do you call this queen of the Mucogees, my brother?” 
Bienville asked of the Alabama. 

“Sehoy,” he answered. 

“Marchand,” said the Royal Lieutenant, speaking rapidly 
in French, “I would have you bestow upon this new ally such 
presents as we have suitable for him, he is our nearest neigh- 
bor, and I trust him. As to these Muscogees we must be very, 
very careful, and early seek a friendship with this queen — 
what did he call her?” 

“Sehoy,” answered Marchand. 

“With this Sehoy,” said Bienville. “I heard of the fame of 
this Queen in Mobile,” said Marchand, “and in selecting the 
presents for this expedition I had desired the best, and select- 
ed for her a handsome shawl of rich pattern with bonnet and 
dress to match, but the Governor appropriated these things 
to his own use ; declaring it absurd that such articles should 
go on the back of a red squaw.” 

“It was for his wife’s back, I suppose he thought the King 
had sent the things?” questioned Bienville. 

“Yes, Sieur,” said Marchand. “My faith! did Duclos al- 
low him to have them?” exclaimed the Sieur Bienville. 

“Duclos objected furiously, but all the same the haughty 
Governor selected what he liked and ordered it sent to his 
hotel.” 

“It is abominable!” said Lieutenant Villemont. “It is 
enough to send him to the Bastile,” said Marchand. 

“It may,” said Bienville, the merchandise belongs to the 
King, and was sent to Louisiana as presents, to be judiciously 
distributed among the Indians. Without such, I would not 
dare to plant the Royal Standard.” 

In an anxious manner he turned to Marchand and said, “I 
trust there is suitable provision made for the Muscogee 
Queen ?” 

“Trust me, there is, Sieur,” said Marchand. 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


15 


Erstwhile the priests had wandered to the brow of the 
bluff for view of the surrounding country. From there they 
saw the windings of the rivers, which approached within six 
hundred yards of each other; after which they turned, as if 
maddened by the foot-hills, and diverged for miles before 
they came together. 

Looking towards the flag, whose silver lilies blooming on 
white field bore a nation’s message, Father Andre said to 
Father LaVente : 

“The great mound is large enough but none too large for 
the fort to sit snugly upon the top of the hill.” 

“It is just like Bienville to do things in a small way,” an- 
swered Father LaVente crossly, “had the Governor selected 
a site for the fort he’d have floated the fleur-de-lis from yon 
bluest mountain instead of from this ant-hill on the river.” 

“Yes, but for practical purposes our leader keeps his wits 
about him while Monsieur le Governor soars into mists and 
clouds.” 

“Have it so if you will,” said Father LaVente, “but I, for 
my part, am glad that it is yourself the ships will leave be- 
hind when they bear me back to the good wines of Monsieur 
le Governor,” and he added with a sly twinkle in his eye,, 
“to the good company of the Ursulines.” 

A delicate flush spread over the face of the younger priest 
but he made no answer to the elder Jesuit who very soon 
went down to the ship, in curiosity to see what was keeping 
the Indian in there so long. 

When he left, Father Andre lifted a small black silk cap 
from his head of rich brown hair and running his hand through 
the pretty waviness of it tried to suppress the feeling of con- 
tempt growing in his heart for the man he should have liked to 
have honored. The young priest had wanted to look up to, to- 
walk after, the older priest, but he was finding it hard to even 
feel right in the Jesuit’s company. When he was gone down to 
the boat, and Father Andre saw him pause just behind a great 
white sycamore tree that grew on the water’s edge, he knew 
he was listening; for it was then the officers were discussing 
the disposition the Governor had made of the King’s most 
costly merchandise, and it was then the Jesuit Father placed 
his hand on his stomach and laughed and twisted his ears 
that he might the better hear what Bienville was saying. 


16 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


Sitting there on the bluff Father Andre said to himself, “Oh, 
LaVente, thy nature is suspicious, avaricious and malicious. 
In my heart I know, that thou knowest, that for the good of 
Louisiana better would it have been did the mantle of the 
dead Iberville still rest upon the shoulders of Bienville, and 
he be given full liberty — unfettered by the harpings of envy, 
than to rest as it does upon the shoulders of this proud and 
unreliable Sier Lemotte Cadillac. Oh miserable priest, who 
is not above owning a shop, you are here to pry out, to spy. 
With Mandaville, Bagot, Latour, and Villiers at the throats 
of Marchand, Duclos, Bosbriant and D’Arataguette — each to 
report to France, the one-half against Cadillas, and the other 
half against Bienville, what is the King to do? What is he 
to believe? Who is he to trust?” 

But for all that was done and reported to France, falsely 
and not falsely, the work of the forts went on, under the de- 
termined energy of Bienville. This fort on the Coosa was 
built as the ones were built on the lower rivers : of heavy 
timbers, with four bastions, and barracks for soldiers. In 
each bastion Bienville mounted two cannon. The stockading 
was heavy, with entrenchments around. E’re the fort, with 
out-houses, was finished the golden burrs of the chestnuts 
had opened wide and the brown fruit had fallen. When the 
fort was christened, Toulouse, Bienville left a garrison of 
thirty to guard it, and turned his boats towards Mobile. 

Father Andre built his own little hut himself — built it out 
of cypress, and it stood outside the fort. He bordered the 
path leading from it to the Cross with deep purple violets 
that bloomed for Christmas, while around the Cross he plant- 
ed little wild flowers that bloomed all the time. In his bark 
covered hut he did his own cooking, and slept on a bed of 
pine straw. He never went to the officers’ table to eat, as 
Father LaVente always did. 

Madge Page, in the home of the Ursulines at Mobile, al- 
ways noticed how Father LaVente when he visited the 
school to bless it would ever drain his goblet dry of the wine 
that Sister Frances Louise handed around with her white 
hands while Father Andre would remove his small black cap 
and lift his eyes and look at her for a little while, then look 
deeply into the goblet of red wine but scarcely taste it. 
Madge said it was no wonder the priests, and the soldiers too, 
always looked at Sister Frances Louise, for the King himself 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


17 


had said, when she sailed from France to the province that a 
fairer face would never cross the seas than hers. 

It was when the fort was building, along in July, and the 
days were long and hot, that Captain Marchand stood down 
by the river bank, where it was cool, and watched the fish 
play. It was while he was standing there, just before the 
sun went down, that he saw a small boat with silver-tipped 
oars glide by bearing an Indian woman half reclining on 
cushions listening to flute-like music played by an Indian 
youth on reeds. The oars trailed in the water and the boat 
was borne along by the strength of the current with a rip- 
pling sound that chimed with the reeds. The woman was 
Sehoy, the Muscogee Queen, who lived above the fort at the 
Hickory Ground, and the Indian youth was Tooka, of the 
Eagle tribe. 

Marchand saw the youth was pouring his heart out on the 
reeds in wild longing to the woman who was older than him- 
self ; looking passionately at her all the while, but she seemed 
to be enjoying the luxury of her boat, and its gliding motion, 
more than anything else. 

* % * 

When Marchand and Villemont had gone to the Hickory 
Ground to present gifts to Sehoy, and the head Chiefs, and 
to crave permission to be a neighbor, they were informed 
that the Queen was away; visiting a Queen in one of the 
lower Muscogee towns upon the Chattahoochee river. 

The officers expressed the most profound regrets and pre- 
sented the War Chief and Micco with valuable gifts, and 
formed an alliance with them. 

In ascending the rivers from Mobile, to the new fort on the 
Coosa, Bienville had stopped at all the important towns, 
smoked the pipe of peace with the Chiefs, and presented them 
gifts — thus easily and pleasantly securing their consent to 
erect a fort anywhere in their midst. 

Marchand and Villemont had found the trail leading from 
the fort to the Hickory Ground fairly lined with cone-like 
cabins, and so it was to the next town above the Hickory 
Ground, they called Little Tallassee. Dotting the valleys and 
hills of Coosa Valley were the homes of the red tenants — 
all paying tribute to Sehoy, the Muscogee Queen. 

After seeing this woman, with her young lover glide down 
the Coosa, upon inquiries, Marchand learned that she was on 


18 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


her way to attend a Grand Council of the Tookabatcha’s, 
upon the Tallapoosa river ; that she chose to go by boat with 
Tooka where the water was navigable, but when the swirl 
of the waters upon the rocks drove the boat ashore her sub- 
jects awaited her' there with sedan chair and bore her on. 

The Tookabatcha Indians had been driven from the Ohio 
country by the Hurons and Iroquois and coming south formed 
a part of the Muscogee Nation. The Tookabatchas were ac- 
cepted as equals by the Muscogees, and well enough, for 
buried under the Micco’s cabin at the wealthy and populous 
town of Tookabatcha were sacred relics such as no other In- 
dians were ever known to have — mysteries that were never 
brought to light save once a year at the Green Corn Celebra- 
tion when they were exhibited, one by one, on the fourth day 
of the celebration by the high prophets. No wonder Sehoy, 
of the Wind Tribe, was accepting kindly the devotion of young 
Tooka, who, at the death of the old Micco, would be first in his 
nation, and who, so far as wealth, social standing and bravery 
were concerned, exceeded all the other warriors. Though 
Sehoy seemed not the least bit in love with him, she seemed 
willing to form an alliance with him by marriage when the 
time arrived for it. Both nations, the Muscogee, as well as 
the Tookabatcha nation were planning with great delight, 
this marriage — everything was looking forward to it. 

In the fall of the year when the corn and the pumpkins 
were ready to gather there appeared at the gates of Fort 
Toulouse, one day, Big Mortar, from the beautiful town of 
Coosawda, that lay just below the coming together of the 
rivers. This town upon the Alabama river was the chief 
town of this tribe, and it was there the Alabamas held their 
big feasts and festivals. 

It was to a “Harvest Dance”, held at Coosawda, that Chief 
Big Mortar had called to invite the garrison. The invitation 
was readily accepted, and when Big Mortar was gone, Cap- 
tain Marchand said to his officers : 

“To impress French importance upon the tribes we will 
appear tonight, at this dance, in court uniform, and,” he con- 
tinued, “we are supposed to conduct ourselves altogether as 
gentlemen among the elite for at this annual celebration the 
Queen of the Muscogees, with her wealthy and respectable 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


19 


attendants, will appear, and take part in this Boos-ke-tau of 
four days.” 

When the commandant had delivered himself he retired to 
his room, and to his writing table where there was a great 
pile of manuscript, for Marchand, like Le Page Du Pratz, 
(Superintendent of the public plantations) was busily en- 
gaged in writing up a history of the Southern Indians. This 
young adventurer in his historic researches was being firmly 
impressed with the idea that the Muscogee Indians were dis- 
tinct from the common American Indians, and his policy was, 
to live to the idea. 

Directly Marchand’s back was turned his officers looked at 
each other with expressive faces. “So, ho!” laughed Paque, 
“Monsieur would have us make one grand impression at this 
Boos-ke-tau of the Red-skins.” 

“Our uniforms must have every appearance of having been 
worn at the Court of Royalty,” said Villemont. 

“I think the commandant’s brain is scheming for this Se- 
hoy,” said Henri de Wolfe. 

These men from France, handsome, polished, and well- 
dressed, were late to appear that night in the great Square 
of the Coosawda town. Their Paris boots, cavalier hats, and 
lace trimmed coats, quickly caught the eyes of the savage 
women who imagined each man a King. 

One at a time the head warriors advanced to meet them, 
and after greetings, Marchand, as “Grand Chief,” was in- 
vited to a seat beside the Micco of the town. This Micco 
was dreadful looking. His body was all covered with scars — 
for every enemy he had slain a scar had been inscribed — be- 
side these “glory scars” there were the enemy’s scars of 
battle axe and poisoned arrow. Among the young Indian 
women who attended the Micco, to fan, or to bathe his pois- 
oned wounds, was an unusually handsome one who seemed in- 
stantly charmed with Henri de Wolfe, and she followed him 
up and offered him the red beads and alligator’s teeth she 
wore around her neck if he would sit by her and dance with 
her, as Villemont and Paque were dancing with the women. 
Marchand, displaying his usual policy, was dancing but little, 
so far — he was winning his way with the Chiefs instead of 
stealing into the hearts of the Alabama women. But at last 
the “pom-pm-pm-pom” of the raw hide drum with rattle 


20 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


gourds and reeds! drew him into the wild dance. In the great 
square, beaux and belles were paired off like birds in Spring. 
Marchand looked around him in there to see if he could find 
anywhere the Muscogee Queen, but she was not there. The 
dancing began again, and men in fringed jackets, and beaded 
moccasins, and women in short petticoats and beads, began 
whirling and stamping in such delirium that the Frenchmen 
in amazement sood and gazed in silence. When the music 
became frenized both sexes gave themselves up to their na- 
tures. 

The women wore very small silver bells, and these bells, 
with the tiny feet, and heaving breasts kept time with the 
music, and responded to the hoarse cries of the men. This 
savage dance was so barbaric, so revolting that Marchand 
suggested to his officers that they return to the fort, and 
thus flee from the savage revelry that was to last four days, 

• — but Hendri de Wolfe was nowhere to be found. At last 
after a wearisome search he was found in a half drunken con- 
dition, and he declared to his commander that he had joined 
himself in wedlock to the Indian woman bearing the red 
beads and alligator teeth. 


The Sabbath day following the savage dance at Coosawda, 
Marchand, with Villemont and Paque, made another attempt 
to see Sehoy. Close to the “Tumbling Waters,” at the Hick- 
ory Ground, was the home of this woman. Her house was 
low-roofed, and roomy, and more pretentious than any other 
home in Coosa Valley. The floors were of earth, and for 
chairs and beds they used the buffalo robe and bear skins. 
The family meals were served on low tables, from plates and 
bowls made of soft white poplar, while the spoons they used 
were made in fancy patterns of buffalo horns. They drank 
their tea from low stone mugs, and like “the rich man,” fared 
sumptuously every day. 

When the Queen’s servants saw the troopers come gallop- 
ing into the Hickory Ground, mounted on fine saddles, their 
well groomed horses, with swords at their sides, they ad- 
vanced with pomp and ceremony to receive them and invited 
them into the Queen’s presence. 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


21 


They found her seated upon heavily embroidered cushions 
placed on a large scarlet dyed rug. Numerous attendants 
were about her ; all selected from the nobility. She was short 
in statue, but beautifully formed, and her features were reg- 
ular and pretty. Her hands were well shaped and her small 
feet, brown and bare, crossed each other and rested upon the 
embroidered cushions. Strand after strand of pearls circled 
her throat and covered her otherwise bared breasts. A crim- 
son scarf circled about her waist while a short petticoat 
of Arabian blue scarcely covered her lower limbs which were 
bound with gold bands as were her wrists and arms. Stand- 
ing nearest to her was young Tooka, well formed, erect and 
graceful but restless and wild in manner ; making one think 
in reality of the Eagle bird. 

With the languor of well-bred indifference Sehoy raised 
her eyes at the entrance of the soldiers and looked steadily 
towards them while Tooka’s face hardened at sight of them 
and he bestowed upon them the most contemptuous looks. 

“White Chiefs, advance, let me greet you,” said Sehoy. 

Marchand advanced with a courtesy so elaborate that it 
took all the strength out of Villemont’s and Paque’s legs to 
follow him. 

Well, they remembered in France how this dark-skinned, 
curly haired Marchand had ever tempted the love of wo- 
men and that it was common for them to declare their love 
for him at first sight. That it was his policy to steal into the 
heart of the Muscogee Queen even Tooka knew — Tooka. the 
young savage, who was half mad of love for the Indian wo- 
man had just received the sanction of the Chiefs to lead her 
to his pavilion as his bride. 

Refreshments of a high order were served on the small 
tables, after which the French party assured the Indians 
of their pleasure, and appreciation, and, again bowing very 
low, they mounted their horses and galloped back to the fort. 

But very soon Sehoy invited the French to attend a great 
feast at the Hickory Ground, given in honor of the braves' 
return from a bear hunt. This place was well suited for the 
gathering of great crowds. In the center of the town, open- 
ing into the square, was a large building capable of accom- 
modating a thousand people. This place was entirely de- 


22 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


voted to pleasure ; it was where the crowds assembled to 
drink tea, to smoke, to chat and to watch the games. There 
was a great council house at the Hickory Ground, but it was 
more private than the house of pleasure for it was in there 
they had their secrets. The Micco lived near the Council 
House and so did the old men, and their houses all faced 
the West as a reminder that life was nearly done. The houses 
of the better classes were all plastered inside and out, and 
were all painted red and white and under the eaves was a 
space of two feet left to admit air and light. There was much 
of beauty and comfort everywhere, and the natives being in 
the greatest ease and abundance were expressive of warm 
and generous hospitality. 

Roaming at large were herds of cattle, and a few fine 
horses. The breed of horses descended from importations 
from Arabia to Spain, and from Spain to Mexico where they 
were stolen by the Muscogees. 

On one of these horses the wild Tooka came running like 
the wind towards the fort just as Marchand, Villemont, and 
Paque had mounted their own horses and started in a gentle 
gallop to the Hickory Ground to attend the Boos-ke-tau of 
bears’ meat. The young savage darted like lightning by the 
troopers, giving a yell as he passed but otherwise never no- 
ticed them. Villemont and Paque looked at Marchand with 
quizzical eyes at the passing of the savage for already they 
knew that he was the thorn in Marchand’s plans. Thronging 
the trails to the Hickory Ground Indians were coming to the 
feast, and down the river in beautiful canoes graceful war- 
riors were gliding, and up from the Lower Towns in boat and 
barge they were bending to their oars, while up the streets 
they were laughing and greeting each other, and they met 
the French with friendly salutations. 

Outside the Square immense preparations were going on ; 
the squaws were skinning dead game still coming in and at 
the same time the odor of bear’s ham as it roasted over deep 
pits of glowing coals was wafted to the nostrils and the little 
brown papooses clapped their hands in anticipation. Near 
the wigwams and huts swung immense pots filled with dried 
corn, beans and every variety of stuff, and roasted potatoes 
and dark heavy bread piled high while young Indian girls 
bore around in the square baskets of delicious berries gath- 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


23 


ered on the plains in summer and dried for the winter festi- 
vals. 

Generally the forenoons were given to speaking, and the 
afternoons to games. 

Many of the warriors spoke well and this was the genius 
which paved the way to power in Council. They spoke in a 
kind of singing way unless they wished to fire the hearts of 
their hearers into action and then their looks and tones were 
fierce indeed. 

On this occasion the Micco of Tookabatcha (who was of 
the Eagle tribe and who, at death, would be succeeded by his 
nephew, Tooka, addressed the crowd in a very fierce and war- 
like manner. And in his speech he denounced the coming of 
the French. But he failed to arouse the enthusiam that he 
expected and his speech was off-set by one of a very young 
and handsome Indian from the Micco’s own town. This young 
Indian, called Bracket, in a sweet and singing way welcomed 
the Pale-faces into the land and described a visit he had made 
to Mobile and the kindness shown him there by the French. 

In the games of “ball play” and ”chunke” gambling was 
indulged in, to a wild extent — even the boys, and squaws, bet- 
ting. In witnessing the games Marchand was very attentive 
in his devotions to Sehoy which thing enraged Tooka and 
with a most insolent manner he drew his bow as if to shoot 
him; in an instant the Frenchman’s hand went to his sword 
but just as quick the Indian woman sprang between the two, 
and immediately she ordered the youth so beside himself 
with jealous passion to return to his home at Tookabatcha. 
He dared not refuse to obey the Queen’s command and in 
silent fury he left the scenes of pleasure and, upon the beau- 
tiful horse she had given him, he went alone to his pavillion 
upon the banks of the Tallapoosa ; gazed a little while at the 
home he had made for his bride, then turned his horse’s head 
and disappeared in a path leading away towards the north. 

The following morning — the sun just risen — an Indian boy 
stood near the Council House and blew loudly on a conch 
shell. Soon the Micco and Chiefs assembled inside, with 
closed doors. Before them stood the Queen’s messenger 
bearing the news that Sehoy and Marchand had married. 
They married the night before — married according to Indian 
custom, (two standing together). Villemont and Paque with 


24 A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 

the brothers and sisters of the Muscogee Queen were all who 
witnessed the ceremony. 

In the Council House the Micco and Chiefs submitted to 
the act of the Queen — submitted because in the nation she 
out-ranked them, and for them not to have submitted would 
have been treason, and treason in savage nations is punished 
with death. 

When the officers returned to the fort they found that 
Henri de Wolfe who had refused to accompany them to the 
Boos-ke-tau of bears meat, had deserted the fort. He had 
left without a word to the garrison, or to the Indian woman 
he had married. He was careful to take away his belongings 
— leaving nothing behind him save a small gold locket he’d 
worn on his watch chain and the Indian woman had asked 
him for that to fasten on the rosary of red beads and alliga- 
tor’s teeth she wore on her neck. He had gone away so qui- 
etly that even Father Andre never knew when he left. Fa- 
ther Andre found it hard to exercise his ministry over the 
garrison and he was glad when the superior recalled him to 
Mobile that he might be entrusted with the direction of the 
Nuns and of the Royal Hospital. He had lived a pure unsel- 
fish life at Fort Toulouse; he baptized the Indian slaves and 
often he beggarded himself to purchase captives to save them 
from torture. 

Marchand and the priest disagreed as to the commandant’s 
marrying the Indian woman. Father Andre knew that this 
was in Marchand’s mind from the first and he had written 
to Bienville about it and Bienville had been most severe in 
the censure of it and had written to his favorite and threaten- 
ed him with the Colonial Council at Mobile, but Marchand 
had gone right on in the face of all opposition. He had cal- 
culated that if it came to the worst that he would have un- 
numbered warriors at his back. Though he much preferred 
not to break with the government — and so he wrote to Bien- 
ville. 


“Ay, Father Andre,” said Madge Page to the priest when 
he returned to Mobile, “Ay, Father Andre, I am glad you are 
come. Le Governor Lamotte has been here and he thinks to 
change the plans of the Home of the Ursulines — the plans 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


25 


which our dear Sieur de Bienville does approve ! When Sis- 
ter Frances Louise told Monsieur Governor there would be 
no changes at the Home, he was angry, oh, he was angry.” 

“What was it that he wanted to have changed, Demoiselle?” 
asked Father Andre. 

“It was the tulip beds !” 

“The tulip beds?” 

“Yes, he would have them changed and in their place he 
would have tall shrubbery. I feel sure it was because he 
wanted to contrary our sweet sister.” 

“And why should he desire to contrary Sister Frances Lou- 
ise?” 

“Because he thinks she is under the influence of Sieur de 
Bienville.” 

For a moment the priest cast a keen glance on the girl’s 
face, and then he removed the small cap he wore and passed 
his hand across his brow. 

“Where is Sister Frances Louise?” he asked slowly. 

“When I saw her last,” answered Madge, “she was on the 
back balcony teaching a poor Indian how to hold his hands in 
prayer.” * * * 

At last Governor Cadillac had evidence that vast gold 
fields lay — not in the Illinois country but in the region that 
lay to the west of the Coosa, and he fitted out an expedition, 
composed of miners, and soldiers, to go in search of them. 
Before going into the interior he removed his family from 
the Island up to Mobile; boarding them with Madame Jous- 
sett. 

The Joussett House was not large, but it was most pleas- 
antly arranged, — stretching out as it did in a large grove of 
live oaks, with balcony facing the Bay, and walks leading 
down to the water. It was the day the Governor left Mo- 
bile, to go on the gold hunt that his daughter, Mazie, heard 
a rap on her door. Opening the door she saw the Creole 
lad, Claude Joussett, standing there with a small white boat 
in his arms. One of the men at the fort made the boat and 
gave it to him. It was a beautiful piece of work, made of 
soft white poplar, exquisitely carved and fitted with little 
sails and a tiny flag of France. Lifting his dark eyes 
to the demoiselle he said, “I am going to float my boat on 
the Bay, will you go with me?” 


26 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


“Certainly I will go,” she said. The Governor’s daughter 
sat on the shore and saw the lad sail his beautiful boat until 
they looked out to Sea and saw on the great expanse of 
waters a long canoe with a single passenger, borne swiftly 
along by a half dozen Indian boatmen. The canoe was a cy- 
press dug out and was fairly cutting the waters. Claude 
Joussett drew his little boat to land and with Mazie Cadillac 
watched* the incoming voyager. 

Suddenly he clapt his hands and shouted, “It is our Sieur!” 
Running the short distance to the landing Claude awaited the 
boat’s arrival. Coming ashore Lieutenant Bienville stopped 
and kissed the lad lovingly on the lips, and then he turned to 
one of the boatmen and said, “Bring the sick lad ashore.” 

From the bottom of the dugout the Indian picked up the 
limp form of little Adolphe Raoul and stepping from the boat 
placed him in the extended arms of Beaudrot, a courier de 
bois, who came quickly forward at sight of the Sieur. Beau- 
drot was just returned from Fort Toulouse, upon the Coosa, 
where he was wont to make journeys both in boats and upon 
foot. His powerful strength, together with his bravery, had 
made him dear to all. When he had borne the sick boy to 
the Joussett House and placed him upon a couch in the small 
room that lay between Lieutenant Bienville’s and the rooms 
occupied by the Governor’s family the courier de bois smooth- 
ed the lad out and in great sympathy gazed at the child. 
Clearing his throat he drew from an inside pocket Marchand’s 
letter and respectfully handed it to Bienville. “Has he mar- 
ried the Indian woman” asked the latter quickly. 

“He has, Monsieur,” answered the runner. A fiery red 
flew over Bienville’s face. Turning to his writing table with 
the unopened letter lying there he hastily penned : 

“To Marchand, Commandant at Fort Toulouse, upon the 
Coosa : 

Come to Mobile immediately.” 

“Bienville.” 

While folding the order he said to Beaudrot, “Thou hast 
just come in?” 

“Yes, Monsieur.” 

“The sun is near to setting ; go thou and eat and sleep and 
at the early dawn return to Fort Toulouse with this message 
to Captain Marchand,” and Bienville handed the letter to 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


27 


the faithful man who departed to his hut to spend a night 
with his wife and two little boys. 

When the messenger was gone the Frenchman filled with 
grief and impatience towards his friend sat there and brooded. 
Bienville thought of the demoiselle over the Sea waiting 
for Marchand to come back ; of how he had broken every 
pledge to the French girl by connecting himself with this 
Indian woman of the Hickory Ground. And Bienville won- 
dered if the handsome and gifted officer would sink down into 
a “squaw man” with his mongrel children about him and 
in time take unto himself other squaws as the white men 
who connected themselves with savage women invariablv 
did. 

With the face of the dark Sehoy in his mind, the fair face 
of the Governor’s daughter, from his widow, caught his at- 
tention, and he straightened himself up and went down to the 
shore where she still sat and gazed at the Bay at the set of 
sun. In contrast of her father’s swathy face she was very fair, 
only she had his dark brooding eyes. Her hair was the beau- 
tiful color of her mother’s with that same tinge that glows 
after the sun has gone down ; and it was so soft, and fine, 
and prettily arranged. Her mouth and nose were small and 
beautifully formed but there was no strength of character in 
either. Even about her hands that lay in her lap there was 
only a soft pathos, a helplessness that has ever appealed to 
the unmarried man ; and the girl did appeal to Bienville not- 
withstanding his dislike for her father. She was dressed en- 
tirely in white, and her clothes were beautiful. The large hat 
with its soft ribbons, and drooping feather, above the plead- 
ing eyes, was white. The upper part of her waist was an 
all-over embroidered yoke reaching like a collar about the 
throat while ruffles of lace were so arranged to complete the 
bodice which was lost in the soft folds of the belt above the 
full skirt. 

She wore no jewelry; not even a ring. When Bienville ap- 
proached her, she turned from the Bay and lifted her eyes up 
to his. Immediately he lifted his hat and bowing low, said: 

“This is the Governor’s daughter?” 

“Yes,” she answered, “and this is Lieutenant Bienville?” 

“Yes, I have come to report to the Governor,” he said. 

“Pa-pa is away from home.” 


28 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


“Ah !” 

“He is in the interior, where there are mines.” 

A frown gathered on Bienville’s brow, but the girl was gaz- 
ing again at the silvery waters and never seemed to notice. 

Bienville when in Mobile ever busy at his writing table 
had the sick lad, Adolphe Raoul’s couch placed in the room 
where he did his work that the lad could watch him write and 
thus have less time to dwell on the fearful tragedy that White 
Earth and his band had brought into his life. Yet even then 
it was dreadful to the sick boy lying there so quiet, while his 
little friend Claude Joussett with the Governor’s children 
were at the Ursuline Home, all the day long, at school. 

When the Governor’s daughter got to coming in and sit- 
ting beside the lonely child, Bienville was glad, and somehow 
it got to be a settled thing for them to be there together, 
with the child that had wound himself entirely into Bienville’s 
heart ; and sometimes when the boy was asleep and the Gov- 
ernor’s daughter would stay on, to fan the gnats and mosqui- 
toes out of his face, and off his hands, she and Bienville would 
talk of Vincennes, and le Detroit, where she had lived before 
she had gone to the Convent at Paris, to school. 

One day she said to him : 

Have you no other name than Bienville?” 

“Yes,” he laughed. 

“Tell me,” she said. 

“Jean Baptiste le Moyne.” 

“Where were you born?” 

“In Montreal, Canada.” 

“Go on,” she said. 

It had been so long since he’d talked of these things that 
he laid down his pen and gave himself up to the memory of 
them. 

“I was a lad in school,” he said, “when the news came that 
LaSalle had descended the Mississippi to its mouth ; that in 
full view of the sea he had planted the Cross, and taken pos- 
session in the name of the King of France. 

So wild did the school become that the teachers unable to 
preserve order, dismissed, and lads of fourteen years of age 
and upwards slipped out and ran away to embark on the ships 
going out to form a colony on the great river. I will not 
speak of the failure of the colonist nor of the tragic death of 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


29 


the gifted LaSalle. From the beginning Louisiana has been 
but an historic tragedy, and I fear me sometimes that she will 
be, to the end,” and Bienville paused and there came a look 
into his face as though he were trying to see far beyond him. 

“Go on,” said the girl. 

“England eternally fighting France, to paralyze her ef- 
forts towards colonization of the New World,” he said, “left 
my father’s sons at the end of the Canadian wars stranded on 
the shores of France. 

“It was then that the King confided to Iberville the col- 
onizing of his Southern Province. Sailing along the shores of 
the Gulf we had sailed into Pensacola Bay where we thought 
to cast anchor but two men-of-war, at whose mast-heads 
floated the colors of Spain, signaled us to go on — and so the 
Lilies of France cast anchor off Dauphine Island. From my 
boyhood I have longed to finish what LaSalle began.” 

It was something so rare for Bienville to open his heart 
and declare aloud his hopes and his dreams that he was 
scarcely himself when he looked into the dark eyes of the 
Governor’s daughter resting so earnestly upon him. Excus- 
ing himself he left the room and joined a group of officers 
sitting on the balcony. The following day he left Mobile to 
go up the Tombigbee River to establish Fort St. Stephens. 
He had been out of Mobile for three months when the Gov- 
ernor returned from his trip into the interior. The Gover- 
nor had found the gold mines, lying there to the west of the 
Coosa — and he had found coal fields and iron ore, great moun- 
tains of it. But he found his daughter looking like a crushed 
white lily. That the climate was unsuited for her was what 
they thought until one day Bienville’s name was mentioned 
and her father saw her face, and then he knew. * * * It was 
painful indeed to this proud man to see his daughter pining 
away for the presence of “the poor Canadian,” as the Gover- 
nor was pleased to term Bienville. 

As time passed and Mazie was but the shadow of her for- 
mer self her father feeling sure that Bienville would seek 
her hand in marriage had he the slightest hope of success. 
Meeting him one day in a wine shop Cadillac sat down at a table 
with him and when Bienville inquired after the health of Mazie 
(for it was well known that she was in a decline) the Gover- 
nor said, “she is but little better and I have decided to tell 


30 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


you that I have told her that I shall not run against her wishes 
any longer.” 

“Yes,” said Bienville, but failing to get the Governor’s 
meaning. 

“I remove all objections to yourself,” said he to Bienville. 
The Sier’s features were clear cut and sensitive. 

When he realized the meaning of Lamotte Cadillac’s words 
a faint blush of embarrassment dyed his face as he said, “I 
am wedded to Louisiana, and cannot be shackled with human 
ties.” * * * 

“This is news truly,” said the father as he looked deep 
down into his untasted cup. 

Presently lifting his face and looking into Bienville’s he 
said, “when I knew she had given her love to you, it was not 
a question of whether you were worthy of her, whether the 
poor Canadian was suitable, or that the thing was agreeable 
to me in any way — I did not consider this. I will allow her to 
wed him, I said, because she thinks he is necessary to her 
life — that was all. 

“Now, I do but wish to warn you that better will it be for 
you to confine yourself entirely from Mobile.” 

He who had faced all the dangers of a savage land these 
many years was not to be brow beaten by an arrogant man. 
* * * 

Bienville, looking quietly into the heated angry face said, 
“We cannot afford to turn our swords against each other — 
Louisiana is at stake.” 

“The Godless Monster !” said the Governor between his 
teeth as he arose from his place at the table and left the wine 
shop. 

Scarce was he gone from Bienville’s sight when a party of 
Choctaws coming in, in search of Bienville, gave the start- 
ling news of fresh and terrible murders of the French fami- 
lies living upon the Mississippi. The following morning found 
Bienville, at the head of an army, going out to the relief of 
the colonists. He quickly quelled the trouble by striking off 
the heads of the Chiefs who led in the massacres. But for this 
he was most bitterly censured by his enemies, and reported 
to the King as a monster of cruelty to the Red Men. 

When he returned to Mobile General D’Artaguette, who 
had returned from a stay in France, was first to greet him 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


31 


and arm in arm they started up town when suddenly there 
boomed out from the fort a cannon and they knew a ship was 
sighted and with the excited crowd they hurried down to the 
esplanade. On the way Bienville said to the General “when 
have you seen Cadillac, and what has he to say?” 

“I see him often, and he has much to say, but your conduct 
is approved by the Council and by every one save the Gover- 
nor and his junto,” said the General. 

“This thing,” said Bienville, “of having to take the lives of 
these Chiefs as I am forced to take them is the one dark spot 
in my life. It is not revenge I seek, only so far as to force 
them into fear of future massacres.” 

“Du Pratz tells me,” said the French nobleman, “that the 
Natchez hatred for the French is so intense that the two 
will never exist side by side.” 

“I know it,” answered Bienville, “I know that it is only a 
question of opportunity, which will be wiped out first, the 
French or the Natchez. Du Pratz feeling the danger goes 
no longer among the Natchez in seeking data for his book 
as he once did, and he begs for strong forts as a menace to 
the Indians.” 

In the vessel coming in a shout went up from the populace 
when it was seen that Major Boisbriant was come back from 
France. 

“Did you see the King,” he was asked. 

“Yes,” he answered, “I am bearer of the King’s dispatches.” 
The crowd surged in wild impatience and followed him to the 
Council Flail. * * * 

There was news indeed — the Governor Lamotte Cadillac 
was recalled to France; the King had granted to Bienville the 
Island of Come, and presented him with the Cross of St. 
Louis. 

The new Governor was L’Epinay and there came with 
him soldiers, and colonists from France, of culture and dis- 
tinction. With bright hopes and high aims they came into 
the boundless country and settled magnificent grants along 
the banks of the Mobile and Tombigbee Rivers. 

The ships were bringing in Africans, a people very erect 
and intensely black — the guard would march them up into 
the town dressed just as they dressed in the Sun Country, 
“in nature’s robe, adorned.” 


32 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


Notwithstanding, that in a general way at this time, the 
colony was prospering, yet, Crozat saw no money in Louis- 
iana for himself and he returned to France that charter with 
its immense privileges which he had dreamed would make 
him the richest man in the world. 

From Crozat the colony went to an association of men call- 
ed the Western or India Company. 

It was with this Company as it had been with Crozat, and 
commerce was lagging. But France was sending ship load 
after ship load of blacks into the province and suddenly Agri- 
culture lifted her head and became the power. It was about 
this time that the Roi DubreuiPs the Trefortaine’s, Guennot’s, 
D’Hubert’s, Larchebaults, Gayrres and other such families 
founded their little kingdoms in Louisiana. 

In the early part of the year, 1718, Adolphe Raoul, at last 
restored to health and life, was standing before a little mir- 
ror that Bienville had purchased for him, brushing his hair, 
which curled about his pretty face, getting ready for school. 
Bienville was there too and his eyes rested fondly on the or- 
phan boy. Bienville was wont to declare that in all the world 
no other children were ever as graceful and as beautiful as 
the Creole children — the children who were born in Louis- 
iana in holy wedlock of French or Spanish parentage. 

The boy was just gone from the room and Bienville was 
too, into his little parlor, when Major Boisbriant entered 
bearing in his hand a packet from the Council. 

Seating himself before his cabinet Bienville read a little 
while in silence and then he raised his head and said, “Thank 
God, I am ordered to govern as Chief of the Colony.” 

“May I ask at what salary?” said Boisbriant. 

“A salary of six thousand livres and,” Bienville continued 
with gladdening face, “my mantle falls on thy shoulders, my 
kinsman.” 

The news of Bienville’s re-appointment to the governor- 
ship caused the greatest rejoicing throughout the colony to 
all save his political enemies. 


When Fort Conde was finished, and Governor Bienville 
planted the fleur-de-lis above her brick ramparts and the 
white flag unfurled, and fluttered, and lifted above the heads 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 33 

of the populace thronging the streets of Mobile they fairly 
went wild with joy. 

Ah, that day, the French were happy ; wildly deliriously 
happy. Soldiers, in blue coats with white facings, from all 
the forts in the province were there. The garrison of Fort 
Cbnde marched to the music of a band of Creole boys to wel- 
come the crowds coming in. Thronging the streets from the 
early dawn of that day was the artisan in his blouse, the red 
capped woodsmen, the gentlemen, the servants, the priests, 
and later, the mothers with their children, and the sweet face 
Nuns — and in their hearts and with their mouths they shout- 
ed “Glory to our King and to France!” and with an undying 
loyalty they would gaze again and again at the Royal Stand- 
ard above the ramparts of the fort. 

Added to the glory of the new fort was the King’s red 
brick houses that stood low and picturesque on the edge of 
the water; and the school of Nuns with its stone wall was 
finished. 

The houses of the French gentlemen extended back from 
the river, with their balconies always turned to the Bay. The 
rustic huts of artisans and servants occupied considerable 
space ; filling in as they did the distance between the town 
and a number of Indian villages where the Tensas, Thomas, 
and Mobilians lived. Like the Natchez the Tensas and the 
Mobilians were sun worshipers, but Father Andre had con- 
verted the Thomas Indians to the Catholic faith. 

Mobile having become such a place of importance dele- 
gations of Chiefs from all the Indian nations were constantly 
coming there, and so too, did the Canadians come down from 
the North and the Spaniards from the South. 

The Colonists no longer worshiped around crosses in the 
open air, but comfortably in chapels, and Father Andre was 
praying, as were all the good Catholics in Mobile, for a Cathe- 
dral — how they did long for the beautiful stained glass win- 
dows, candle-sticks and choir. Already they were getting into 
the small church of the Holy Virgin a fair show of beauty, and 
the Creole boys were responding to the teachings of the priests 
at service, turning their dark eyes upward and chanting. * * * 

One day a cold wind came driving into the Bay and the 
little Indian slave, Chato, kept piling sticks of wood into 
the open fire-place of Governor Bienville’s room and it threw 


34 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


out such a glow and made such a heat that the Governor 
said : 

“There, there, that will do, Chato, you may go now and 
play with the calves,” instantly the boy was gone for he had 
heard a cannon shot from the fort and the answering boom 
from across the waters and he wanted to join the crowd on 
the esplanade, that was laughing and joking and looking out 
for the ship. 

As the vessel approached the shore the excitement was in- 
tense for standing on deck was a crowd of women. Imme- 
diately the unmarried men pushed their way boldly towards 
the boat’s landing that they might have as it were a kind of 
first claim on the fairer ones. 

D’Aubant, a gay young officer of the fort, called out in a 
laughing way, “Thinkest thou, Boisbriant, that I will find 
my demoiselle, this time?” 

“Sayest thou, D’Aubant, that mine will be there?” said 
the Lieutenant. 

When the ship was landed and the gang plank thrown out 
and the women came out, one by one, they looked in vain 
for some man to come forward and claim his own. It seem- 
ed that the earth had opened and swallowed up the men, who, 
a moment ago, were so eager for wives. 

Where were they? 

They were hidden from sight cursing the fate that sent 
these ugly women to the colony. In a solemn way the wo- 
men were marched to the Usurlines, to be placed with the 
Nuns until they were called for in marriage. When a week 
had passed the Mother Superior in despair sent for General 
Duclos and told him that only two of the women had found 
husbands. 

Immediately Duclos ordered the men into his presence 
who had sent a petition to France for wives, and demanded 
an explanation of their conduct. The men of this party were 
woodsmen from Canada. As they came to answer to the 
General for slighting France’s gift to them they slunk back 
from Duclos in an angry stubborn way. At last the boldest 
one in the party removed his red cap and advanced — showing 
every evidence of fight. 

“Here it is, sir,” he said, glaring like a wild animal at the 
Commissary General, “here it is sir, we’ve waited with high 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


35 


hopes and beating hearts the coming of our wives and to have 
our feelings crushed, sir, it is hard indeed.” 

“It is hard indeed,” echoed the men at the speakers back. 

“The women have arrived,” said Duclos, biting his lip. 

For answer he received a snarl of contempt. 

Steadying himself he continued, “speak up, woodsmen, 
what is your excuse to the King for the slight of these young 
women ?” 

“They ain’t so powerful young,” said the oldest man of 
the crowd. 

“Then it is a question of age, is it?” said Duclos. 

Receiving no answer he said, “the women are strictly vir- 
tuous, at least it was so declared by the directors to Sister 
Gertrude.” 

“We ain’t so virtuous ourselves,” said a very blear eyed 
fellow “that we’d pry into the past life of our spouses.” 

“Well, what is it that you do want?” Duclos said dryly. 

“I’ll tell ye sir, what we want,” cried a man, “its more of 
beauty, sir, we want, its more of beauty.” 

“Do you suppose,” said Duclos looking hard at the man who 
had spoken for beauty, for the man was bald-headed and 
cross-eyed, “do you suppose that a beautiful demoiselle is 
coming out here to marry you?” 

“Oh, sir,” said the man, “it is not of myself I thought, it 
was of the wife that was coming out to me, and when she 
came sir, I didn’t recognize her. But I will take her, sir, I 
will take her with my eyes looking towards her, sir.” 

“And you?” said Duclos to the one other cross-eyed 
woodsman. 

The man nodded his head, and so it was that two more of the 
women at the Home found husbands. 

In March two hundred German immigrants landed in Mo- 
bile to occupy a grant upon the Arkansas River. With these 
Germans came a woman whose adventures are related in 
two worlds. When she left the ship she was strictly veiled 
and handsomely gowned in black. The crowd was wild to see 
the woman’s face and followed in her wake to the Hotel. As 
she entered the Hotel she lfited her veil and revealed a beauty 
that the crowd surged and staggered at. Bienville, with 
Duclos, Boisbriant and D’Aubant was near at the time and 
when the latter saw the woman’s face, his own paled and he 


36 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


started as if to go to her: D’Aubant recognized her as the 
wife of the son of Peter the Great, Emperor of all the Rus- 
sians. In his excitement he turned to his friends and revealed 
the fact. 

After supper when Governor Bienville was alone in his 
parlor and Adolphe was gone to sleep he heard a rap on his 
door and to his “come in”, Monsieur Du Pratz entered. The 
superintendent of the King’s plantations was full of the ex- 
citement that followed the arrival of the Princess Charlotte. 
With Chato lying on a bear’s skin near the fire asleep the 
men sat there and talked of the adventures of this Russian 
woman who had feigned death, and then fled to Germany to 
escape the fist of the brutal Alexis. 

“Governor, do you think,” asked Monsieur Du Pratz that 
this woman has followed the Chevalier D’Aubant here?” 

“My faith Monsieur, it looks like it,” answered Bienville. 

“When she sent for you,” continued DuPratz, “did you 
meet her in a very kind, way?” 

“Her gentleness encouraged me to hide the coldness I had 
intended to show her,” answered the Governor, “but I shall 
beg of the Chevalier to be in no haste to pay his devotions 
to this woman for it is said that it was for jealousy of D’Au- 
bant, Alexis pounded her as he did. And I fear she will prove 
but a nuisance here, angling as she doubtless will for the at- 
tention of the officers.” 

“I fear me so,” answered Monsieur Du Pratz. 

Later when the Chevalier D’Aubant came into the room 
and sat down as for a chat, Monsieur Du Pratz turned to him 
and said: 

“I wonder much if it is the Princess Charlotte fleeing from 
the fist of Alexis, or, as the skeptics say, but a maid of honor 
to the wife of the son of Peter the Great, and that the body 
of the wife, who died and was entombed, was made away 
with by this daring maid of honor with all the jewels of the 
dead wife.” 

Looking straight into the superintendent’s face D’Aubant 
said: “This is the Princess Charlotte. I who have visited 
her and danced with her, at St. Petersburg, before my flight 
from Europe to enlist in the French colonial service, ought 
to know.” 

“Have you met this woman?” Bienville asked of D’Aubant. 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 37 

“I told you, sir,” said he “that I visited Princess Charlotte 
in her home at St. Petersburg. 

“I mean,” said the Governor “since she arrived here?” 

“No, Monsieur, I have not.” 

* * * * * 

When Bienville entered the dining room the following 
morning, at the breakfast table Madame Joussett was saying 
to the beautiful stranger, “You will love this Louisiana. It 
is to us a veritable Garden of Eden — coming as we did from 
the cold Canada.” 

It was then the Chevalier D’Aubant entered. At sight of 
him the Russian wanderer made an attempt to stifle her 
emotions. Coming directly up to her he greeted her in a 
very straight-forward way. 

The wan look that followed the flush of surprise at sight 
of him was followed quickly by the expressionless mask she 
had assumed. 

A ship bringing over twenty-five young girls taken from a 
house of ill fame in Paris called forth the loudest protest 
from the colonists. So bitterly did Bienville denounce the 
act, blaming the directors for sending these prostitutes to 
the colony that he aroused the directors’ resentment towards 
himself. Upon the heels of this estrangement came the fail- 
ure of the Royal Bank of France. 

Marigny de Mandaville, who had obtained in France the 
cross of St. Louis, and the command of Fort Conde, at Mo- 
bile, brought the distressing news of the Bank’s failure, and 
told of the wild panic it had produced in all parts of France. 
It was then that ships laden with provisons for the colonists 
ceased to come into the Bay. Provisions were running low 
with no prospect of fresh supplies from Mother Country. 
Garrisons were dismissed and sent into the woods to provide 
for themselves. Lazy soldiers forced to fish and to hunt and 
to dig for Indian turnips grew resentful and sometimes de- 
serted and went over to the English at Charleston. Hun- 
dreds of canoes laden with pelts for which there was no de-r 
mand were turned and rowed wearily back up the rivers. 

The Natchez Indians thinking France had forsaken her 
children turned to fresh murders in the Mississippi Country. 

Day after day the colonists watched the waters for the 
ships and asked each other what they thought of the future. 


38 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


Added to the panic, malaria swept the land and even the ne- 
groes were unfitted to work in the fields, and the grass smoth- 
ered vegetation followed by a drought that burned into the 
forests, and the peace and prosperity that had come into the 
colony since 1719 ceased to exist. * * * 

Marigny de Mandeville walking along the esplanade said, 
“where is all the boasted prosperity of Louisiana? Is this 
Bienville’s colonial dream? The Sieur Lamotte Cadillac, lan- 
guishing in the Bastile, will be glad to hear of this.” 

“No doubt he will, no doubt he will,” answered Father La- 
Vente, “and,” continued the priest, “it seems to me this is a 
fitting time for me to send a packet to France.” 

“Boom !” 

“Boom!” 

“A ship from France!” shouted the populace, “A ship from 
F ranee !” the cheering was deafening, and people ran over 
each other on their way to the esplanade. 

“There will be feasting tonight !” the officers said. 

“And no more fasting,” the priests said, and counted their 
beads. 

“France has not abandoned her children!” shouted the 
Governor. 

“God save the King and France!” shouted the people. 

Suddenly a sound like a joyous wind turned into an angry 
howl was borne out on the waters and struck the ship as if 
to hurl her back. 

“Holy Mother,” said Father Andre, “it is the frigate Maire !” 
Mothers took their hungry children by their little hands and 
hurried them back to the house, to keep them from seeing 
the three hundred starving black skeletons France had sent 
to Louisiana to sell to her children. 

In the track of the Maire came the Neride, that the rec- 
ords tell us “had put to sea, with the frigate Charles, laden 
with negroes, which took fire and was consumed, more than 
sixty leagues from land, a large majority of her crew perish- 
ing in the flames. The whites escaped in the boats, with a 
few of the Africans, but tossed for many days at the mercy 
of the waves, and suffering for subsistence, the unhappy ne- 
groes were killed, one after the other, and eaten for food!” 
* * * 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


39 


The sad condition of existing circumstances had extended 
to Fort Toulouse, upon the Coosa. English traders seeing 
the discontent of the garrison there, at having to go into the 
woods for subsistence, put it into the heads of the soldiers to 
mutiny. 

Stealing towards the fort that night in August, the last in 
Marchand’s life, a trader working in behalf of the English, 
called to a sentinel from over the wall to come out and he 
would give him a drink. 

The sentinel refused to go outside the fort, or to let the 
trader inside. The bold Englishman seeing the Frenchman 
inside the fort walls was faint hearted climbed up on the 
walls and handed him a quart bottle of rum. The soldier 
drank a fourth of the liquor out of the bottle and reached up 
the bottle to the trader on top of the wall who received the 
bottle and turned it up to his own mouth. 

After a while the half drunken man inside asked if he might 
call some of his companions, who were asleep, to come and 
get a drink. 

“Yes,” said the man on the wall. 

When the day dawned it found only the officers asleep in 
the fort. The trader had completed the plans for a mutiny 
and was gone to his confederates who awaited him just out 
of sight. The soldiers inside were not fully drunken, but 
they were inflamed on rum and wild for Marchand s fine 
wines and brandies he kept locked in a closet in his bed room. 

The mutineers had planned to kill Marchand first — the 
cook was to follow a dish of broiled birds and when they 
were placed in front of the commandant’s plate the cook was 
to step back behind his chair, draw a concealed knife and 
stab him from the back. The soldiers were to follow this act 
by rushing in with sharp knives and despatching Villemont, 
and Paque, were to help themselves to the breakfast and the 
wines and brandies, provide themselves with provisions and 
arms and take up the line of march to Charleston. 

The above was the plan, but when the cook came in, his 
face betrayed his intentions— Marchand saw murder in every 
vein and sprang to his feet, but only 'to receive the fatal 
thrust of the knife. The soldiers rushed in for Villemont 
and Paque with gleaming knives uplifted. 


40 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS* 


Quick as lightning the officers bounded through the door 
that led into the bastion and made their escape from the 
fort through a port-hole. Breathless they fled into the woods. 

The mutineers instead of following them, seized upon the 
breakfast and broke into the wine closet. 

The Jesuit Father hearing the commotion came out of his 
little hut to listen, and then he ran and beat on the gates to 
get in. But the noise and revelry inside drowned his appeals. 
When the soldiers had feasted they dressed themselves up 
in the officers’ clothes, and broke open the magazine, armed 
themselves, robbed the store room and started for Charles- 
ton. 

When Villemont reached the Hickory Ground he directed 
Paque to cross the river and go on to arouse Big Mortar and 
his warriors to follow the trail of the mutineers while he 
informed Sehoy and the war Chiefs of the tragedy. 

In an outburst of grief Sehoy ordered the warriors to 
avenge the death of her husband. 

Soon with war clubs and battle axes they followed Ville- 
mont back to the fort. As he expected, the mutineers were 
gone. The drunken men made no attempt to conceal the 
route they had taken — and were easily trailed to the Talla- 
poosa, where they had crossed. 

They were overtaken at Lime Creak seated on the bank 
where they had a fire of coals fixing their dinner. They felt 
sure of reaching Charleston in safety for with all the guns 
in their possession they felt no fear of attack from Indians 
under the escaping officers. According to Indian warfare 
the warriors very stealthily approached, and when Villemont 
gave the order to charge, they dashed upon the mutineers 
with whoops and unearthly yells ! 

“Leap to your guns !” shouted the leader and “Bang! bang!” 
went their guns. 

“Whoop-pee !” yelled the Indians as on they came. 

Very soon it was a hand to hand fight and desperately 
fought to the finish when the red men won, and Marchand’s 
death was avenged. 

When Sehoy had aroused her warriors and they had fol- 
lowed Villemont from the Hickory Ground she entered her 
barge, with her little daughter, and was borne swiftly to the 
fort. 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


41 


Already the priest had prepared Marchand for burial, and 
was saying prayers for his soul when she came in. 

Tamathlemingo had established a guard around the fort 
to hold back the traders whose intention it was to capture 
the fort. When the traders approached Tamathlemingo with 
presents he said, “I disdain to accept gifts from the white 
hounds who have murdered my white brother. Get thee gone, 
or the warriors will bury their tomahawks deep into thy 
worthless skulls.” 

When Sehoy insisted upon burying Marchand according 
to Muscogee custom the priest said, “there will be no rest for 
his soul if we bury him not according to the customs of the 
Holy Catholic Church.” 

Around the grave Sehoy had placed a half circle of rough 
marble, carved with the letters and strange symbols of her 
people, and she had her long black hair cut, and scattered 
over the grave. 

October following the mutiny at Toulouse a vessel with 
provisions and money for the King’s troops came to Mobile, 
and courage was restored, and the harvest was not near so 
scant as the colonists had supposed ’twould be and again the 
passion for gambling ruled the people. One day a Choctaw 
came running into the town and craved to know the where- 
abouts of Governor Bienville. 

He was told by Claude Joussett, who was playing with 
some Creoles a game of chance against a band of Indian 
boys, to go to the King’s red house, first on the left, and in 
there the officers would tell him of the Governor’s where- 
abouts. 

In the red brick house D’Aubant with other officers were 
busily engaged at cards. When the negro servant announced 
to his master that a Choctaw runner was come in great haste 
so absorbed were the gamblers that they never noticed the 
servant until he said : 

“Master, de Injun do come in big hurry, he no time for 

wait.” . 

“Bring the Indian in here,” said the Chevalier going on with 

the game. 

,When the Choctaw entered and told of how the Natchez 
had attacked the Wabash settlers, and delivered Father Da- 


42 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


vion’s message for immediate assistance, Marigny de Mande- 
ville said to the runner : 

“Return quickly to the Wabash people and tell them to 
hold the fort until the French soldiers arrive, which will be 
very soon.” 

***** 

In the meantime where was Bienville? 

He was with his brothers and some faithful Canadians go- 
ing into the wilderness tribes, where never white man had 
been before, establishing friendly relations with them and 
trying to win them to Christianity. 

Report from the Wabash sufferers immediately drew the 
Governor into action in their behalf and again at the head 
of an army he was forced to march upon the Natchez In- 
dians who seemed to live but to murder the French. And 
again Bienville was forced to strike off the heads of leading 
warriors until they sued for peace. 

Bienville ever leading the colonists into new fields, at this 
time removed the seat of government to New Orleans, and at 
this time the province was divided into nine districts, civil 
and military, as follows: Mobile, Biloxi, New Orleans, 
Natchez, Yazoo, Illinois, Wabash, Arkansas and Natchitoches. 

The bare-footed Carmelites were stationed at Fort Tou- 
louse, at Biloxi, and at Mobile, while the Jesuit Fathers la- 
bored upon the Wabash and Illinois. A new code of regula- 
tions set the price of negroes at one hundred and seventy-six 
dollars, payable in rice or tobacco, in from one to three years, 
and the new code declared that “all Jews should leave the 
colony ; that all slaves should be instructed in the Roman Ca- 
tholic religion ; that no other religion should be tolerated in 
the colony ; that if the owners of negroes were not true Cath- 
olics, their slaves should be confiscated; and that the white 
inhabitants should not enter into marital relations with ne- 
groes, nor live with them in a state of concubinage.” 

Immediately upon Bienville’s return from the Wabash 
country he directed his attention towards improving Mobile 
that had suffered from a fearful storm coming in from the 
Gulf and driving the ships into streets and washing down 
houses. 

Notwithstanding Bienville was giving all of his life to the 
building up of the colony his relentless enemies lived but to 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


43 


make him odious to the King. The curate LaVente and de 
Mandeville never ceased to disclaim against him, and Mon- 
sieur Lamotte Cadillac who had succeeded in getting out of 
the Bastile was well posted in every misfortune that befell 
the colony, — this man of handsome face and fine manners was 
in Paris and at last had succeeded in making the King believe 
that the colony’s misfortunes were not misfortunes that are 
common to new colonies but as through Bienville they had 
come about. And thus it was that one day an order came to 
Bienville to sail for France to answer the charges against 
him. 

“Holy Father !” he cried, “am I to live to see the death of 
all my cherished plans?’’ 

***** 

When Bienville appeared before the King, in Paris, he sub- 
mitted to him in justification of his management of Louisiana 
an eloquent memoir ; giving a history of his services during 
the entire time spent in the province ; beginning with his la- 
bors at the death of his brother Iberville, when he had been 
selected as the one best suited to govern Louisiana although 
in the 1 first years of his manhood. 

The King ever leaning towards Bienville expressed himself 
in highest appreciation of his services, yet the King was in- 
fluenced by the directors, and removed Bienville from Qffice, 
with his brother Chateaugne, Lieutenant Boisbriant and Che- 
valier Noyan. 

***** 

When the new Governor, Perrier, arrived he established 
himself at New Orleans. From there he very early penned 
this lengthy epistle to the minister : “The English continue 
to urge their commerce into the very heart of the province. 
Sixty or seventy horses, laden with merchandise, have passed 
into the country of the Chickasaws, to which nation I have 
given orders to plunder the English of their goods, promising 
to recompense them by a present. As yet I have heard noth- 
ing from that quarter. It appears that a league was formed 
among all the Indian nations of their neighborhood to attack 
the Spanish settlements. Whereupon the Governor of Pen- 
sacola requested assistance from me. Having no news from 
Europe I thought it was for our interest not to have the Eng- 
lish so near us, and, in consequence, informed the Tallapoosas, 


44 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


who were before Pensacola, that if they did not immediately 
retire I should attack them with those nations who are 
friendly to us. I also gave notice to the Alabamas, that if 
they attacked the Spaniards, who were our friends, I should 
be compelled to assist the latter. But I should have taken 
care not to have interfered with the natives who were friend- 
ly t6 us, in order that I might not commit myself with regard 
to the English. This had a good effect. The Governor thank- 
ed me, informing me that war was declared in Europe. Not- 
withstanding, I shall indirectly assist the Spanish until I re- 
ceive other orders from your highness, at the same time tak- 
ing the liberty to represent that our sole effort should be to 
prevent the English from approaching us. 

The ship, with the lovely young women, has arrived. 

As they brought their wearing apparel over in their little 
chests, they call them here “girls de la cassette.” Their 
pretty faces and modest appearance makes them eagerly 
sought for as wives. But the Ursulines allow them to marry 
only such soldiers who are distinguished for good conduct. 
These soldiers in consideration of their marriage are dis- 
charged from service ; concessions of land are made to each 
happy pair, with one cow and its calf, one cock and seven 
hens, one digger and one axe. These men think cultivating 
the wax tree will prove of more profit to them than the cul- 
tivation of either indigo or tobacco, although the former 
brings two dollars and fifty cents per pound. Monsieur Du- 
Pratz tells them that one man can make six thousand pounds 
of wax, and the myrtle wax makes a clear and beautiful light 
and is in much demand for export as well as for home use. 

Speaking of Monsieur Du Pratz, he has the finest im- 
proved place in Louisiana. His house, near Mobile, is built 
on a large scale, embracing a court, with a very beautiful 
gallery, and his garden of tropical plants is a dream. In 
great contrast to “Du Pratz” is the manor house, now in New 
Orleans. I should judge that our ex-governor was reared 
in much plainness of life from the manner of his living in 
the King’s province.” * * * 

Immediately after “the girls of the chest” were placed with 
the Nuns the soldiers hurried there where each claimed his 
demoiselle. The one to secure the prize was Adolphe Raoul, 
though in this party they were all prizes. Adolphe was just 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


45 


turning into manhood, and he was called the handsomest 
Creole in the province. He was small in figure, with dark 
eyes, and hair slightly curling, and a smooth creamy com- 
plexion. It was the little beauty Marie Dubois, from the 
south of France, that Adolphe wanted. He wanted her as 
soon as he saw her land and he looked at her as much as to 
tell her so. 

Sister Frances Louise had kissed this child of fifteen years, 
of age when she greeted her first and when Marie laid her 
face against her and went to crying, Sister Frances Louise 
cried too. 

“I knew it was you,” the child said looking at the sister and 
then she cried again. 

“How did you know?” asked the Nun. 

“Because Monsieur Bienville told me just how you looked 
and he sent you this,” Marie said, drawing a letter from, a lit- 
tle bag that she carried in her hand. Bienville bought the 
pretty little bag over in Paris just for Marie. 

The letter explained why the child .should have , come to» 
the colony at so early an age ; she was newly orphaned and 
when they were making up this cargo of girls Bienville heard 
of her and arranged that she should go to the colony to be 
placed in the Ursuline Home until of suitable age to marry. 
When Adolphe came to the Home to claim Marie Dubois the 
Mother Superior said to him, “If Marie likes you and if you 
will wait a year for her, you two may marry.” 

“I will wait a year,” he said, “but may I not have an un- 
derstanding with her now, that she may know it is for her 
I am building the little house?” 

The little house consisted of one large square room:. It 
stood upon the bank of Mobile River, on the edge of a grant 
of four hundred acres. The furniture was home-made, of cy- 
press wood. Upon the French bedsteads, with solid head and 
foot boards, lay mattresses of moss, with pillows soft and 
fluffy from the wild duck’s back. A settle stood near the big 
throated fire-place where Marie did the cooking; boiling the 
greens in a pot made by the Indians. A dining table occupied 
the center of the large room, with chairs to match, of cypress 
wood, and shelves lined the walls for cover and dishes, and 
Marie’s little chest stood at the foot of the bed where they- 


46 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


slept. Would that the records had made this the last chapter 
in their lives. 


While Bienville was accused of cruelty towards the Natchez 
Indians the new Governor Perrier was guilty of excessive 
cruelty to all Indians. For small offenses he had the men 
stripped and publicly whipped upon the streets of New Or- 
leans. An Indian girl, called Muna, aroused his displeasure, 
and fell under the lash; while her brother, for refusing to 
work in the immense flower garden of the Natchez post was 
beaten by Chopart, the Commandant of the fort. Added to 
this the Indian lover of Muna was forced to work for the 
French, to burn lime and coal. Muna had seen the struggles 
of her brother; had borne the lash upon her own body, had 
seen her lover living a dog’s life and later, saw her father led 
forth and broken upon a wheel. 

So full of passionate hatred was this Muna for the French 
that she never seemed as a young woman again, and gradual- 
ly drifted into witchcraft. 

In time Chopart was consumed with a desire to build a 
beautiful town with gardens full of naked statuary. Look- 
ing about him for a site he selected the White Apple village, 
the home of Stung Arm. Conceited with his plan he sent for 
the Chief of the village and said to the Chief White Apple, “It 
pleases me to build a beautiful town upon the site of your 
village; you Indians get out that the town may be built.” 

To this the Chief replied: “My ancestors have lived in this 
village more years than there are hairs in your double cue. 
And it is good that they shall continue there.” 

“Leave the village or you shall rue it !” said Chopart. 

Then the Chief said to the Commandant, “when the French 
came into our country and asked us for land upon which to 
build a fort, they called Rosalie, they said, ‘Red brothers the 
same sun shines upon us all alike, and we will walk in the 
same paths,’ and we marked them off land for their fort, 
which they built.” 

In great disgust Chopart ordered him out of his sight. 

The Chief, apparently, without any emotion withdrew and 
went to assemble in council the old men of his village. In 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


47 


the meeting he related very carefully his interview with Cho- 
part. The old men said : 

“It is the spring of the year when our hens are laying their 
best and to remove them now will be with great loss, and 
our gardens are just sprouting beans, and our corn is just a 
little shot dp out of the earth ; tell the Commandant of this.” 

When the Chief returned to the fort and told Chopart what 
the old men had said, he drove the Natchez angrily out of his 
presence. Again assembling the old men in council he again 
related to them how the French Commandant had turned 3. 
deaf ear to all reason. 

The oldest man in the Council house arose feebly to his. 
feet and said : 

“We must meet the White Chief’s cruelty with cunning — * 
we must beg to be allowed to stay in our homes until the corn 
hardens in the ear, and until our hens have weaned their 
flocks, and that in consideration for this favor we of the vi U 
lage do each pledge ourselves in as many moons as it takes 
to harden the corn and wean the flocks to pay the Commands 
ant at Fort Rosalie a basket of corn and a fowl.” 

For a while it was very still in the Council chamber^the 
old men just sat there and looked into each other’s faces feel- 
ing the full meaning of the above. Then, one by one, the 
old men ’rose to their feet and went very close to the very old 
man and whispered into his ear. To the very old man, each, 
whispered the same thing and each made the same pledge, 
and the very old man was satisfied. After this some warriprs 
came in bearing a covered chair, borne on poles, and the very 
old man sat in the chair and they bore him twelve miles 
away into the Natchez village upon the Missssippi that stood 
close to Fort Rosalie. 

When the Council met at this place the very old man rose 
and said : 

“We have a long time been sensible that the neighborhood 
of the French is a greater prejudice than benefit to us. We, 
who are old, see this — the young see it not. The wares of 
the French yield pleasure to the youth, but to what purpose 
is it, except to debauch the young women, and taint the blood 
of the nation, and make them vain and idle? The young men 
are in the same condition — they must work themselves to 
death to maintain their families and please their children. 


48 A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 

Before the French came among us, we were men content 
with what we had, and walked with boldness every path. Now 
.we go groping about afraid of briars. We walk like slaves, 
which we shall soon be, since the French already treat us 
as if we were such. When they are sufficiently strong they 
will no longer dissemble. For the least fault of our young 
people they will tie them to posts and whip them. Have they 
not already done so, and is not death preferable to slavery? 
What wait we for? Shall we suffer the French to multiply 
until we are no longer in a condition to oppose them ? What 
will the other nations say of the Natchez, who are admitted 
to be the greatest of all the red men? Let us set ourselves 
at liberty. * * * 

From this very day let our women get provisions ready, 
without telling them the reason. Go and carry the pipe of 
peace to all the nations of this country. Tell them that the 
French, being stronger here than elsewhere, enslave us the 
more ; but when they spread out they will treat all nations in 
like manner; that it is to their interest to join us to prevent 
so great a misfortune. That they have only to join us to cut 
off the French to a man in one day and in one hour !” * * * 

Stung Arm, as mother of the Grand Chief of the Natchez, 
had a right to demand the meaning of the secret councils 
of the red men. The youth of the Grand Chief and the lean- 
ing of his mother towards the French made the old men 
afraid to trust her. Wild with curiosity, Stung Arm asked 
her son to accompany her to the Village of the Meal to see 
a sick nephew. During the trip she said: 

“My son, though I have told you and the world has told 
you that you are the child of a French-man, you do not doubt 
I love my own people better than strangers. Have no fears 
that I will betray to the French, but I pray you tell me the 
meaning of all these secret councils and all this plotting. It 
is my right as mother of the Grand Chief to be informed.” 

“Mother!” the half-blood replied, “I am fain to keep silent 
in this matter.” 

“Of course,” she said, “I am aware that our people con- 
template the destruction of the French though I know noth- 
ing of the particulars, but if you can not trust me I am in no 
pain for your confidence” 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


49 


Stung with her reproaches the young man told his mother 
that the bundle of rods lay in the temple to assemble the 
tribes together for the destruction of the French. And Stung 
Arm feigned approval, though her mind was at work planning 
to defeat the Natchez in this barbarous design. 

Time was pressing, yet for fear of arousing her son’s sus- 
picions she visited her sick nephew at the Village of the Meal 
then hurriedly escaped in disguise to the Natchez village 
where she repaired to the temple and pulled some rods out 
of the fatal bundle. 

On the morning of the 28th of November, the united In- 
dians were to fall upon the French and murder all the males. 
Sending out the broken rods made it plain to the distant 
tribes when to begin the massacre. By pulling out some of 
the rods in the bundle that lay in the temple Stung Arm 
changed the time fixed for the massacre, thus giving the 
French at distant forts a chance of escape although it hur- 
ried on the attack at Fort Rosalie. In the meantime she 
had informed the Sieur de Mace of the fort, of the attack 
so near at hand and he reported to Chopart who scoffed at 
the idea and refused to prepare to meet an attack, declaring 
that such action would semble of cowardice. 

On the night of the 27th Chopart attended a grand ball at 
the fort and in a state of half intoxication he danced the night 
through. Just as the dark settles before the day de Mace 
sent his woman to the drunken commandant, who was stag- 
gering into his bed, to see if by her tears and her fears she 
could arouse him to the danger that was so near. 

When the Indian woman, sent by de Mace, told Chopart 
that already the Indians were arming themselves for the mas- 
sacre he stirred himself into something like attention and 
said, “You go ask the Grand son of the Natchez if he is going 
to kill the French?” and then he fell into his bed on his face 
in drunken debauchery while the simple woman fairly flew 
to the Grand Sun, and said, “I come with a message, oh Chief 
of all the Natchez, Monsieur le commandant says are yoti go- 
ing to kill the French?” 

“Why no,” he answered as he touched a lock of his hair 
with his hand, “Look at me: See my half curly head? The 
blood in my veins is half French, tell me, what is the White 


50 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


Chief doing? Is he sleeping off last night’s drunk? It was 
then the Indian woman caught a gleam in the Grand Sun’s 
eye although he was so young and half French — she saw the 
savage lust for blood and understood, with a quick turn she 
started towards the door. 

“Not so quick,” said the young Chief and like a flash his 
arm was around her waist and he held her in a vice while he 
knotted the center part of the scarf he had taken from around 
his neck and crammed it in her mouth and bound her hands 
and her feet and fastened her to his bed and left her there. 
At nine o’clock that morning the Indians came flocking into 
town laughing and talking as they do when going out on a 
grand hunt. Some squaws were along “to skin the meat” 
they said, and the braves loaded themselves with ammunition ; 
then in a flash they sprang upon the store-keepers first, kill- 
ing them in silence for in the beginning of the attack each In- 
dian had his man, but the alarm was soon given though not 
until the Indians had gotten inside the fort. The soldiers flew 
to their guns and the sleeping commandant awoke and sprang 
through the window into the beautiful garden of magnolias 
where he blew a whistle for his men. Immediately he was 
surrounded by the savages, breathing his death : while none- 
of them would touch him they forced a degraded Indian to 
kill him. The Grand Sun chose an immense tobacco shed 
as his seat from which to issue his orders and it was there 
his warriors brought him the heads of their victims. 

After the massacre the plunder of houses and boats began 
and it was then that a small number of French escaped to the 
woods. The Indians were very careful to stow away in a 
cabin all the munitions of war but divided the merchandise 
among themselves. It was when the heads of the brandy bar- 
rels were knocked out that the last debauch began. All night 
long they drank, and sung, and danced and insulted the dead 
—night after night and day after day the awful scenes went 
on. They would clothe themselves in the garments of the 
priests, and bow and mimic in every way the forms of the 
Catholic church. 

The Grand Sun ordered the lives of one tailor and one car- 
penter spared, that they might serve his needs. Many of the 
young women were spared but during their captivity they 
were shown every indignity. 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


51 


Father Andre for the past year was missionary to the 
Natchez, he’d asked to be sent among them. Not knowing of 
the sad fate of Father Souel who labored at the Natchez Vil- 
lage Father Andre had started to visit him and was just in 
the edge of the town when the massacre began. With no 
thought of danger he was coming quietly and peacefully along 
when an immense Indian clasped him in his arms and stab- 
bed him twice. In dying Father Andre only uttered these 
words : “Ah my God, Ah my God.” 

It cost the Natchez only twelve warriors to destroy two 
hundred and fifty French. 

When the news reached Governor Perrier at New Orleans 
he sent runners to all the forts as far as the Illinois country, 
and called upon his red allies to help him avenge the outrage. 
He armed the towns and plantations and sent ships up the 
rivers as art asylum for women and children ; he strengthened 
old forts and established new ones, then placed himself at the 
head of the troops to march against the enemy. When the 
colonists threw themselves at his feet, in tears imploring him 
to stay in New Orleans he appointed the brave and experi- 
enced Chevalier De Loubois to command. 

In the meantime seven hundred Choctaws under M. Le 
Sieur had marched directly upon the Natchez and found them 
still eating and dancing and drinking. Taking them by sur- 
prise they killed many of them and rescued a number of the 
prisoners with a hundred and six negroes. Retiring to the 
grant of St. Catherine the Choctaw alVies awaited the arrival 
of the French under De Loubois. The demoralized and de- 
bauched Natchez fastening themselves in the fort gave them- 
selves up to burning the remaining prisoners and dancing 
the dance of death. But on one dark night in February the 
Natchez, with their women and children, secretly left the 
fort and gained the opposite shore of the Mississippi, and 
from the swamps resisted the French, and their red allies, 
who gradually, on dark nights and in the face of wind and 
rain drove them higher up the river. The Choctaws ever in 
hot pursuit taking scalps gave them rest neither day nor 
night. 

The French showed a high degree of courage in this war 
with the Natchez and behind none in bravery was Diron D’Ar- 
t'aguette, and his brother — a young man just out of school in 


52 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


France who hurried to the shores of Louisiana to join the 
war. 

In August, Governor Perrier at the head of a colonial 
force, advanced right into the Natchez stronghold near the 
mouth of Black River and, after fierce fighting on both sides, 
captured six hundred Indians. Among the captured was. the 
Grand Sun and several prominent Chiefs ;• and they were 
adorned with; drapery of the altars and drank their brandy 
in the chalices and pyx. These prisoners were carried to St. 
Domingo, and sold as slaves. The uncaptured warriors with 
their families now fled from their dens and made their way 
into the Chickasaw country, and to the Creeks upon the Coosa 
and Tallapoosa rivers where they were welcomed and pro- 
tected. The Chickasaws joined the Natchez warriors against 
the French and together they fell upon the colonists. To in- 
timidate them and stop this murder and rapine of the savages 
Perrier retaliated by burning Indians : at this the whole In- 
dian horizon darkened, and turned against the French; and 
then the wail that went up from the throats of the colonists 
for Bienville reached the throne of God and He saw and heard.: 


When Bienville stepped upon the shores of the blood- 
drenched land the wildest excitement prevailed. Mothers 
with their babes at their breast shouted and fell at his feet 
when he landed; little children were there; fathers with hag- 
gard faces ; soldiers with eyes beaten out ; young women hope^ 
lessly crushed ; with naught before them save a wrecked and 
a ruined existence. 

Among the Indians to welcome the return of Bienville 
were only four small tribes, the Chatots, Thomas, Mobilians 
and Tensas. 

“Where are my friendly Choctaws, the powerful Musco- 
gees and the civilized Cherokees?” he asked. “These pow- 
erful tribes have joined the Chickasaws in befriending the 
Natchez/’ they answered him. 

Immediately Bienville made bold demands upon France to 
stem this tide of slaughter. In answer to the demand ships 
came pouring into Mobile Bay loaded with merchandise from 
France for distribution among the Indians. Red Shoes, head 
Chief of the Choctaws was first to win backhand then the- 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


5a 


Muscogees, and a little later the Cherokees. But the Chick- 
asaws wei*e so steeped in a blood lust that nothing seemed 
to reconcile them to a peace with the French, and the Natchez: 
hatred for the colonists was soon such that they preferred 
death to reconciliation. 

Diron D’Artaguette was stationed at Mobile while his 
brave younger brother, occupied the Illinois post. Gem 
D’Artagtiette had become very nervous regarding Indians 
and ever cautioned the colonists to be on their guard while 
Bienville was trying hard to re-establish confidence between 
them and it' brought about sharp words between these two 
splendid ^men who had in the past been so fond of each other. 
With this small beginning the breach widened until there 
sprang tip an enmity between them. 

During the fall Bienville ordered the gallant young D’Arta- 
guette, who was stationed at the Illinois post, to meet him 
in: the country of the enemy in March, with all the disposable 
French forces and all the Indians who would join him. In the 
meantime Bienville embarked his troops at Mobile. There 
were men of all colors and boats of all kind. We glean from 
history that “the crews were composed of genteel merchants, 
gentlemen of leisure and fortune, loafers and convicts, rough 
but bold mariners, veteran soldiers, sturdy and invincible 
Canadians, monks and priests, Choctaws and Mobilians and 
a company of negroes commanded by Simon, a free mulatto.” 
It was hard work for the bateaux and pirogues to get up the 
Tombigbee River, yet after a most tedious voyage Bienville 
reached the fort where he was to review his troops and take 
up the line of march into the Chickasaw country to fight a 
people who had never known defeat. After almost insur- 
mountable difficulties Bienville halted at the place where now 
stands the present city of Columbus. 

In the face of violent storms they trudged on — often in 
water waist deep and slipping upon the slimy soil. Suddenly 
the clouds rolled back and a May day’s sun shone out and the 
most beautiful country in the world unfolded, the prairies 
stretched out wide before them— prairies of grass, wild flow- 
ers, ripened strawberries, grazing cattle and wild horses, with 
a view uninterrupted by trees. 

They were now very near the Chickasaw towns but where, 
oh where, was' young D’Artaguette and his troops ? No 


54 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


where to be found. From the first Bienville had sent spies in 
every direction to find him. It was useless to wait longer for 
news of him and the Choctaws were threatening to disband 
unless allowed to go on and attack the Chickasaw towns, and 
the French were impetuous and wanted to go into battle. 
The Chickasaw town stood upon a hill in the prairie and the 
Natchez refugee town was behind it. 

In the afternoon at two o’clock Chevalier Noyan at the 
head of his company advanced upon the foe and was first to 
see the British flag floating over the Chickasaw town. 

When the troops advanced to make the attack the negro 
regiment under Simon was ordered to the front and imme- 
diately two of the negroes shot down. This threw them into 
a panic and they threw down their arms and fled, notwith- 
standing, their leader tried hard to rally them. The French 
rapidly advanced and. entered the town under a hot fire 
which killed and wounded a number of the officers as well 
as the men, but the troops gallantly drove the Indians from 
the cabins and wrapt them in flames. Then there belched 
forth from the fort and from the well built Natchez cabins 
a solid sheet of fire that carried the French down like mown 
grass. Dismayed the greater number left standing retreated. 
In vain the officers endeavored to drive them to battle — no 
threats nor promise to promotion could move them to the 
scene of action. But the officers with a few brave men ad- 
vanced to storm the fort and held their positions though 
wounded and bleeding until the Chickasaws were right upon 
them. As Lieutenant Grondel fell a party of savages rushed 
up for his scalp when four of his men driving them off were 
about to bear him away a well directed fire from the fort 
killed the four heroes, but left Grondel still helpless and bleed- 
ing. Regnisse now rushed to his commander and, alone, 
dragged him from the dead bodies in a storm of bullets that 
drove the scalpers back and bore Grondel to the French lines 
in safety. 

During the dreadful battle the Choctaws, all painted and 
plumed, were jumping up and down in a horrible manner out 
of reach of Chickasaw guns. With all hope g<5ne of storm- 
ing the fort the French officers huddled together over the 
dead to keep the scalpers off until assistance recalled them, 
when they retreated. On the retreat the soldiers so worn 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


55 


with battle fatigue and disappointment were scarcely able 
to carry the wounded, who were placed in litters, made such 
slow advancement that Red Shoes proposed to his warriors 
to leave the French to the mercy of the Chickasaws. Bien- 
ville approached the Chief and with the mysterious force he 
possessed he persuaded him not to leave him in his hour of 
need. The return voyage to Mobile was wretched in every 
respect, and burying the soldiers dying along the route deep- 
ened the pain of it all, and the agony of the probable fate of 
D’Artaguette made it almost unbearable. Weeks had pass- 
ed and still no news of the younger brother of Diron D’Arta- 
guette. 

It was the latter part of June and the clouds were low 
above the Bay and in Bienville’s apartment the air was stif- 
ling. Bienville was trying to write to the directors, to ex- 
plain how it was that the battle had ended in disgrace to the 
French and in glory to the Chickasaws but it was too hard 
a thing to do. The spies were still out in search of D’Arta- 
guette and the Sieur paled at sound of every foot step com- 
ing towards his door in fear of the fate of the boyish com- 
mander. “He was too young to be sent at the head of troops 
into that savage land,” the elder brother had declared to Bien- 
ville. Unable to write or to even think Bienville began to 
pace backwards and forwards the rooms leading into each 
other when he heard a step and his heart stood still for he 
recognized the step of the faithful spy, Beaudrot, and he was 
lagging as if he fain would turn back, when Bienville opened 
the door and looked into the face of the man standing there 
and heard him say “Sieur !” in tones of anguish he knew that 
his worst fears were realized, that the younger brother had 
died at the stake, later he learned that owing to a frightful 
storm at time of battle a handful only of D’Artaguette’s sol- 
diers made their escape, the rest were captured and burned to 
death. 

Bienville felt to submit to failure would not only bring 
reproach upon the King but the combined armies of the Red- 
men. And again he wrote to France for more money, and 
more men, and more merchandise for Indians. 

The King said, “we will again tax ourselves and send him 
once more, money, and men, and presents for Indians, but if 
he fails again he must be again recalled to France.” 


56 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


It was again in March that Bienville made his last expe- 
dition against the Chickasaws. . At Fort St. Frances, where 
he landed his army, disease stalked in and laid hold of his 
men and great numbers of them died; when he had nursed 
the sick ones, who did not succumb to death, back to life, 
together they took up the broken line of march with an un- 
dying resolve to win or to die. So determined had these men 
become to save Louisiana from the savage foes that the In- 
dians became discouraged and sued for peace and Bienville 
and his soldiers returned to Mobile in a measure victorious. 

And yet, there awaited him a dispatch from the King dic- 
tated in a spirit of harsh censure. In wounded impulse he 
wrote to the minister as follows : 

“ ‘If success had always corresponded with my application 
to the affairs of the government and administration of the 
colony, and with my zeal for the service of the King, I would 
have rejoiced in devoting the rest of my days to such objects; 
but, through a sort of fatality, which, for some time past, 
has obstinately thwarted my best concerted plans, I have fre- 
quently lost the fruit of my labors, and, perhaps some ground 
in your excellency’s confidence; therefore have I come to the 
conclusion, that it is no longer necessary for me to struggle 
against my adverse fortune. I hope that better luck may 
attend my successor. During the remainder of my stay 
here, I will give all of my attention to smooth the difficul- 
ties attached to the office which I shall deliver up to him ; 
and it is to me a subject of self-congratulation that I shall 
transmit to him the government of the colony, when its 
affairs are in a better condition than they have ever been.” 
* * * 

It was a sad day to the colonists when Bienville bade them 
farewell and returned to his home across the sea but — sadder 
still it was to them when they saw the “Lilies of France” 
torn from Ft. Conde and replaced by the blood-red “Cross of 
St. George” and their fort rechristened “Charlotte” in honor 
of England’s queen. 


During the years that have passed since the mutiny at Fort 
Toulouse, upon the Coosa, Marchand’s daughter, Sehoy, bear- 
ing the same queenly name the elder daughter of this aristo- 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS' 


57 


cratic arid wealthy family had ever borne, was sought in mar- 
riage by the Chiefs of both the Muscogee and Tookabatcha 
tribes for the same Tooka of the Eagle Family who had loved 
her mother. It will be remembered that in a jealous rage 
of Marchand Tooka left the southern region and went away 
towards the north. There, upon the Ohio, he fell in with the 
Shawnee Indians who were noted for the human blood they 
spilt. When Tooka turned his horse’s head towards the Ohio 
he knew where he was going. He had heard of the Shawnees 
and he was seeking them — he wanted to go where he could 
have his fill of human blood, and it was proven that in blood- 
shed and violence he was nothing behind them. 

When the Chiefs sent a delegation up into the northwest 
after him to come back and be their Tustenugge and to mar- 
ry the daughter of the woman he had loved, and who in 
beauty and pride excelled all the maidens of the nation, he 
came. Upon his arrival the Indians began coming in from 
the most remote regions to welcome him ; and all beheld 
him with admiration. He bore himself in a kingly way, and 
indomitable courage was stamped upon him. In the wild life 
he had led he had lost none of his good looks and it was easy 
this time for the wily Chiefs to carry out their schemes. 

Sehoy, Marchand’s daughter, was invited to a banquet, 
given in Tooka’s honor, at Tookabatcha, where she was to 
see for the first time this wonderful chieftain represented to 
be so much like 1 the Eagle Bird ; with his glittering eyes. She 
was to see him for the first time in the Council House where 
he was to address the assembly. When he made his appear- 
ance in the hall he fairly glittered, so costly was his apparel, 
and all the Indians bowed low to do him honor. 

“My people,” he said, “I have been away into a far coun- 
try; cold, oh, so cold,” and for jesture he hugged himself and 
shivered. The eyes of the squaws shone in sympathy. 

“At one time this country was the home of my ancestors 
who were a mighty people but they offended the Master of 
Breath and he allowed the Hurons and Iroquois to make broth 
of them and drive them from their homes. In sadness they 
wandered into another land and the land was warm and wel- 
comed them and the Muscogees anxious for an allegiance with 
them invited them to join their confederacy. Upon the banks 
of the Tallapoosa, the Tookabatchas built a town and gave it 


58 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


their name. Many were the sacred things my people brought 
to this town — mysteries known only to the trusted ones, and 
-exhibited only on grand occasions : as at the brass plate 
dance. These plates with letters and inscriptions only priests 
and prophets handle. The Master of Breath gave these plates 
to the Tookabatchas because they are his chosen people. It 
was to punish the Hurons and the Iroquois for the treatment 
of my people that I tarried so long in the northwest. But in 
joy I came back to the land so warm, and to the people who 
so honor me.” 

When he spread his hands out towards his audience, and 
bowed low, a shout of approval answered the graceful jes- 
ture and his old playmates rushed towards him, and all the 
Indians gave him greetings. 

When Chief Bracket presented Sehoy to Tooka, as the 
young queen of the upper Muscogees, (her mother had died) 
his far-reaching eagle eyes pierced her face and rested upon 
her form. 

“Chief Bracket,” he said, “is this the mate the tribes hath 
chosen for me ?” 

“Oh, Tustenugge,” said the Chief, “this is the mate the 
tribes hath chosen for you.” 

“And what saith the maiden?” asked the haughty Chief 
looking at Sehoy who stood with drooping lids before him. 

Without lifting her eyes she repeated a line or more of 
verse : 

“ ‘Deep in my breast sweet thoughts are at rest, 

No eye but my own their beauty shall see ; 

They are dreams, happy dreams, 

Oh Chieftain, of thee.” ’ 

When the Muscogee maiden repeated the last line of the 
verse, she shyly looked into the eyes of Tooka, and in great 
glee the Chiefs knew that he would lead her to his tepee made 
of rings and curtains and skins. 

At the time of Tooka’s return the Muscogees were very 
happy in their valley homes that stretched from the Tom- 
bigbee to the Chattahoochee. Graceful warriors guided their 
well-shaped canoes down rivers that were clear and beauti- 
ful ; the forests abounded in game, and fish filled the streams. 
But the joy over the Tustenugge’s reign was short lived. He 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


59 


died in less than a year’s time of his rulership ; died of fatigue, 
produced by a desperate bear hunt. This wild Tookabatcha 
Indian of the Eagle Family, was the most savage Indian in 
southern territory ; he brooked no authority, and feared no 
danger. It was his intention to drive from this region every 
living white soul, but death came and took his life away and 
a Scotchman married the wife he had left. 

It was when this Scotchman, Lachlan McGillivray, was but 
a lad that he ran away from his wealthy and aristocratic 
parents who lived in Dunmaglass and slipped aboard a ship 
bound for Charleston, South Carolina. When he landed in 
Charleston, he looked about him with the impudence of a 
wood-pecker, ran his hand in his pocket and counted one lone 
shilling. He put the shilling back in his pocket, walked a 
square to a small eating house and looked carefully at the 
things to eat spread out on the counter under the super- 
vision of a fair-haired English boy. The Scotch boy, who 
was read-haired, and freckled-face, with a fearless manner 
directed the English boy to wrap him the shilling’s worth in 
dark bread and smoked bear’s ham. Then he inquired for 
the trader’s quarters. Being directed to the suburbs of Char- 
leston he turned in that direction and very soon arrived at 
the extensive place. With a small blue cap resting upon his 
red head he jammed right into the crowd. He saw hundreds 
of horses ready packed for their drive intcy the great southern 
wilderness, the land of savage mystery and savage romance, 
the land that had lured the lad from his home in Dunma- 
glass. 

These trains just ready to go out consisted each of seventy 
pack-horses with a driver to every ten horses. 

George Galphin, at that time, the shrewdest Irishman in 
America, owned one of the trains, and was going out with it. 
He was cursing and swearing that he was going to cross the 
wilderness; to drive into the heart of the French; and do a 
bigger commerce with the Muscogee Indians that any French- 
man had ever done. Young Lachlan saw the drivers in demi- 
civilized costumes, each with his ten ponies, belled, and with- 
out lines, waiting for the Irish master to give the signal 
to move when a young woman with wild eyes and disheveled 
hair ran past Galphin close up to the driver standing not far 
from the Scotch lad and seizing his hands began a scene. 


•60 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


“Hits all dis’artened I am at ye leaving me so soon,” she 
•cried, “and hits back to Ireland I’ll go if ye take this journey 
into the wilderness.” The man so lately wedded stood speech- 
less and covered with shame, with the eyes of his master 
burning upon him from the distance which lay between them. 
He had slipped oft from the woman not intending she should 
know he was going oft on this journey into the Muscogee 
country until he was safely beyond her entreaties,, but sus- 
picious of his movements a frenzy seized her when she heard 
he was going into the traders quarters. The man : never 
minded slipping oft from his wife but with her holding his 
hands and praying him not to leave her he found it impossible 
to resist her. When Galphin signalled the train to “close 
up” and felt the hitch caused by the coming of the women 
he came rapidly to the scene: “What is it?” he asked of the 
man too frightened to speak. 

“Hits me husband ye’re taking away,” cried the woman in 
answer. . 

“Ye husband, ‘I’m taking away,” he cried, “I’m a thinking 
its me driver ye’re after, my lass. Now give him one last 
broad smack, clear the track and into the wilderness we go.” 
But not so did the woman, instead, she sank sobbing at the 
driver’s feet with a pathos so genuinely real that every soul 
in the quarter envied the man. Then Galphin looked at the 
. driver and the driver looked at Galphin. It was plain to see 
they were both at a loss. It was then the lad from Scotland 
raised his cap and stepped in front of Galphin and said, “Please 
sir, may I drive the ponies?” 

“Begad,” shouted the master, “drive on.” 

The terrible oaths that fell from the lips of the drivers as 
they started off the train were words strangely different 
from anything that had ever fallen on the ears of the boy in 
the home of Dunmaglass, there, where father, mother and 
children gathered round the altar in the early morning, and 
where at the eventide they sang hymns that were sweet and 
pious. 

* * * * * 

With the last rays of the setting sun slanting across the 

backs of the ponies the train encamped under the shadow of 
a hill with huge rocks reaching out in a way that protected 
them from the dew and made them safer from prowling ani- 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


61 


trials'. Half way down the hill a spring burst out and it rip- 
pled and trilled over terraced rocks making a musical sound 
that rested sweetly upon the ears of the lad after the day’s 
hard drive. 

Always to follow the supper as regular as the bed of straw 
was the bottle of brandy and the dice-box. It was a weird 
scene there in the wilderness, the men gambling by the light 
of a pine knot blaze ; the sleeping boy close to their feet and 
the gingling music of the bells as the ponies grazed close by. 

The ; party reached their destination in due time, averaging 
twenty-five miles a day. There were swollen creeks, and 
rivers without bridges to cross,, mountains and hills, and wild 
beasts to drive from the pathless way. But there were no 
French in the Indian town save “old Indian countrymen” 
who had lost all sight of France and her government and un- 
combed and unshaved was glad to see a Pale-face, be he from 
any land or clime, and welcomed him to his cabin 9f squaws 
and mongrel children. 

At the end of the trader’s journey the Scotch boy was pre- 
sented with a jack-knife as a reward for his services. He 
traded the knife with an Indian for two doe-skins and in turn 
traded the skins until he had made for himself the bags of 
gold he carried back to Dunmaglass, at the time of the re- 
bellion of the colonies. But Lachlan McGillivray did not 
make, alone, all the lands he claimed in the south. The 
shrewd young man early caught on to what it meant to a 
poor adventurer to marry a Chief’s daughter. And he took 
unto himself, according to the rude rites of the country, the 
widow of Tooka — queen of the upper Muscogee towns. 

The records say, “this beautiful maiden was scarce light 
enough for a half-blood, but her slightly curled hair, her vi- 
vacity and peculiar gesticulation, unmistakably exposed her 
origin.” 

At Little Tallassee, upon the Coosa, near to the Hickory 
Ground three miles above Fort Toulouse the bold trader es- 
tablished himself. Here, near his counting house he made a 
beautiful home and called his place the “Apple Grove.” The 
place embodied all that was ideal. Nestling at the foot of 
the pine-clad mountains, dark and deep with forest growth, 
looking down on the river, maddened that the foot hills of the 
Appalachian mountain range should block its path and cause 


62 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


it to foam, and swirl, and tumble ; changing its song to low 
melodies that lured the dark child of Tooka to its changing- 
waters, where she lived and roamed and fished with the In- 
dian children. 

McGillivray’s house of white plaster glistened amidst the 
green of the apple trees where his civilized children were 
reared, Alexander, Sophia and Jennet. 

Sehoy had married very soon after Tooka died and it seem- 
ed strange that she could do it when she had loved him so. 
In his life she would say, “no face I see, no voice I hear save 
the face and voice of Tooka.” 

Muna, the Natchez witch who crooned to the tune of the 
“Tumbling Waters,” reproached Sehoy for so soon forget- 
ting the dead husband and she said “Tooka is in the spirit 
land, and I am in the flesh, and that is how it is.” This Muna, 
the witch, claimed to be impervious to time. She looked old, 
but no older than she did after she saw Perrier break her 
father on a wheel at New Orleans. At the time, she was only 
a girl, and in an hour, as it were, she lost her youth but 
after that she never aged. She was among the Natchez who 
fled to the Hickory Ground from French extermination, and 
she won the sympathy of the Wind Family who gave her a 
place in their home. Inordinately fond of Mrs. McGillivray’s 
child, by Tooka, Muna had the bringing up of her. 

Lachlan McGillivray’s trading house stood on a high bluff 
that looked down on the Coosa for the Scotchman was quick 
to appreciate the river that bore the burden of commerce to 
the Gulf. The rude store house was large and filled to the 
beams with smoked meat, dried fruits and herbs, kegs of 
many kinds of oils, corn, beans, powder, lead, countless skins, 
buckets and bowls, dry goods, rum, etc. 

Large canoes bore his commerce to Mobile while the 
pack horse train bore it over well-beaten trails to Charles- 
ton, Savannah, Augusta and other markets. 

The settling of the English colony by Sir James Oglethorpe 
upon the Georgia coast was stirring commerce in that direc- 
tion, and little towns were being born along the Georgia 
rivers. 

At this time the jealousy existing between the French and 
the English was intense. One or the other were forever plot- 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


63 


ting to set the Indians upon the other, therefore, is was get- 
ting very dangerous to start out a pack-horse train. 

When Captain George Johnson of the royal navy brought 
with him an English army and garrisoned the forts the 
French with pallid faces commenced moving away. Then 
England began to encourage emigration from all over the 
world. Colonies came over from Great Britain, the West 
Indies, and from New England, Virginia and Ohio, — came 
and took the land that the French had discovered, settled and 
loved. 

The Chevalier, commanding at Fort Toulouse, spiked his 
'cannon, broke off the trunnions and cast all which the maga- 
zine contained into the Coosa. When the French garrison 
got into boats to go down the river to Mobile they saw the 
flames rise above the fort, the barracks and all the dwelling 
houses of the fort, and they knew that for revenge the In- 
dian Tamathlemingo and his braves were at work. 

Before the peace of Paris France made a secret treaty with 
Spain, ceding to her the territory on the western side of the 
Mississippi river, extending from the mouth of that river to 
its remotest sources, and including the Island of New Or- 
leans. 

When the flag of the silver lilies, and the banner of old 
Spain was borne from the Bays of Mobile and Pensacola and 
in their stead floated the cross of St. George, men of fine 
blood came from England. Following this flag was one Col- 
onel Tait, an English officer. Visiting the McGillivray’s at 
the Hickory Ground Home, he met the dead Tooka’s child 
and falling in love with her bird-like beauty, he married 
her. The pale papoose bearing his name refused to take up 
with the full-blooded Indians, and ever leaned toward his 
French and Scotch relations, the McGillivrays. It seemed 
little David Tait loved his half uncle, Alexander, and his half 
aunts, Sophia and Jennet, better than he did his mother Se- 
hoy, of the Eagle Tribe. It was only a little while after the 
death of Colonel Tait that his mother was dancing with the 
Red Warriors at the Grand Square of Hickory Ground. One 
night, just after the Gun Dance was over the band of Indian 
boys blew loudly on their conch shells as a herald. They 
knew their young Queen was coming. Now that her 


64 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS' 


mother, Sehoy McGillivray, was dead, each and all were 
anxious for her favor and jealous Chiefs clustered near the 
entrance of the dancing hall and their eyes gleamed with de- 
light at sight of her. The woman’s garb was a strange one; 
around her waist she wore a wampum girdle above a light 
flowing robe that ceased far above the tiny sandaled feet; 
the upper part of her body was naked save the ornaments 
that covered it. Her hair was plaited in wreaths, turned up 
and fastened to the crown with a silver band. The Chiefs 
of station expecting to dance with Sehoy wore the usual 
flap and beaded moccasin, with embroidered mantle of blue 
or scarlet broadcloth. 

Silence followed th^ queen’s entrance into the hall as she 
cast her glance upon the waiting warriors. 

Presently a Chief of the Tookabatcha tribe approached Se- 
hoy in full trot, expecting to receive her favor, but he fell 
back when he saw her bird-like eyes were centered on Charles 
Weatherford, a young American just come into the nation 
from Georgia. With her red lips half apart she allured 
Charles on and gave him her preference. Waving her arms 
above her head, setting in tune the tiny bells she wore, slow- 
ly and dreamily she began to dance. The eyes of the Musco- 
gees gleamed and glittered with rage all the while the Ameri- 
can responded to the charm of their queen, for well they 
knew that for an hour’s passion she was tolling the bells 
of their nation, for it was not long after this that young Wea- 
therford married Sehoy Tait, queen of the Upper Musco- 
gees and established himself on the eastern bank of the 
Alabama river directly opposite the beautiful Indian town of 
Coosawda. Here was his residence, his counting house and 
his race track. Here, from all that vast region, would come 
the traders, and border men, to test the speed of their ponies. 

It will be remembered that Muna, the Natchez witch, was 
foster mother to Tooka’s child. One night, coming out of a 
storm, Muna appeared at the Race Track, (it was by this 
name Weatherford’s place was known) and revealed to Sehoy 
the message of the Tumbling Waters : “Sehoy was to become 
a mother. The child born of her would bear the marks of his 
Eagle ancestors. This child would lead his people into great 
battles that would declare the destiny of the nation,” — this 
was the message. 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


65 


Sehoy’s whole being thrilled with the coming of this child. 
In her superstition she was driven back to the old ways. 
With her own hands she built a cradle for the unborn, and 
lined it as soft as the bird lines its nest, and she swung it to 
the spreading bough of a forest tree where the winds gently 
rocked it to and fro and whispered soft lullabies. 

In her great longing for the new child she drifted away 
from little David Tait her first born, letting him live with her 
sister, at Durant’s Bend, upon Little River. Naturally there 
sprung up a nice relation between the two counsins, Lachlan 
Durant and David Tait, and together they went into good 
breeding, and civilization and education. 

It was just such a day that the Mother Eagle delights to 
give birth to her young that Sehoy Weatherford’s child was 
born. When it came Muna spread her hands over its face 
again, and again, and crooned until it reared its head and made 
a cry like the young eagle makes when it first stretches its 
wings to fly. Charles Weatherford standing near said, “It 
is hungry, Sehoy, give it the breast.” In fury the witch cried, 
“The wrath of the Indian’s God be upon you if to its lips the 
breast be felt before they are dyed with blood ! Here is the 
potion.” Rapidly she brought out from her bosom a small 
vial and stained the infant’s lips with human blood. 

Charles Weatherford cried, “What are you doing? you 
cursed thing! Get out of here with your incantations of evil.” 

“Hush, Charles,” whispered Sehoy, “it is the old life, I love 
it well. Oh, in my mad joy of motherhood I could scream !” 

At a movement from Charles Weatherford towards Muna 
as if to thrust her from the room she anticipated him and 
running to the open door she raised her shrill voice and cried 
to the warriors outside, “Swift to the crying Eaglet, come !” 

Mad Wolf, of Tookabatcha, was first to enter, “Where is 
the little chieftain?” the steel-eyed warrior cried. 

“Yonder,” and the witch toned her voice to make it sound 
like the child was in awful danger. It was then that Charles 
Weatherford hesitated as to what he should do for there were 
a hundred warriors about his door, armed, and ready to strike 
at the command of the sorceress. “To run against the cus- 
toms of the Muscogees means death,” said Mad Wolf to the 
Miccos who had followed him, and they said, “Ah ! ah ! ah !” 


<66 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


“The child will be dealt with according to the customs of 
its tribes,” said Mad Wolf, “Ah ! ah ! ah !” said the Indians. 

As the white man turned sullenly and left the room the 
Eagle child was held aloft, and when fire was placed sud- 
denly to his eyes and he never blinked the shrill cry of the 
Eagle came from the throats of the Tookabatchas while “Ho, 
Muscogee, ho, ho !” rolled from the deep chests of the Mus- 
cogees. 

From a bag of skin Chief Bracket took things which con- 
tained the Eagle Tribe’s history, and constituted their ar- 
chives. Gifts for the baby were brought in, for the most 
prominent chiefs had assembled to await the child’s birth, 
having been summoned by Muna at a suitable time. In the 
arms of Chief Bracket the child made the tour of the room, 
and each Indian looked earnestly into the little face for pur- 
poses of identification, then the Royal Standard was raised 
with the little chieftain resting under it, where he was chris- 
tened in the Indian tongue, Lamochattee, (Red Eagle) 
though he was double named; his name most known outside 
of the tribes was William Weatherford. Muna was selected 
by the Chiefs to teach him Indian arts, subtlety, endurance, 
wrath and all such. She found him an apt scholar. It was a 
sickening sight to see him sitting in the dirt of Muna’s ground 
floor greedily sucking the trunk of a headless snake. As he 
advanced in years he was given fresh scalps to play with, and 
given lessons in extreme heat, and cold, and hunger. And 
his wrath was something terrible. Once Charles Weather- 
ford came upon her when she was teaching him how to fight 
wild beasts by planting her own long finger nails into his 
shoulder and acting as though she were the beast, encased 
as she was in a wolf skin. Though she tore the tender flesh 
she allowed no scream of terror to pass his lips. Sehoy or- 
dered it, but the boy’s father drove the witch from the Race 
Track and she took up her abode on Shell Island, a small 
island in the Alabama River near to Durants’ Bend, where 
she gave herself entirely up to witchcraft, practicing it until 
she excelled all others in the unholy art. After her departure 
Charles Weatherford kept the boy about him in his counting 
house, trying to teach him the art of making money. 

The race meetings were on Saturday, and on those days 
up from Mobile came the traders in their long canoes, well 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


67 


packed with things for trade. And the pack-horse trains over 
the well-beaten paths skirting the foot-hills of the mountains 
would come rolling in. 

The pack-horsemen drove in with big hickories, slashing 
their lineless horses and cursing ; wild to dispose of their 
goods and get to gambling, which was a thirst in the south- 
west. 

Wealthy Englishmen came to the Race Track to gamble, 
and try the speed of their horses, and French, of fine man- 
ners, were there ; and the rogue was there, oftenest of all, all 
on the same errand — trade and debauchery. Usually it was 
hilarious glee though often tragic scenes of murder produced 
the wildest confusion. On one of the Saturdays they were 
betting heavy on a four year old sorrel, with a white star in 
his face, owned by Charles Weatherford. To the master’s 
disgust the sorrel was losing him money. 

“It’s your rider that’s making a mess of your horse, 
Charles,” said Dan Beasley to Weatherford. 

“Put the Red Eagle on his back and we’ll bet on him, heap,” 
said young Big Warrior from Tookabatcha. 

“If I thought so I’d do it,” said the money loving father. 

“Try it, and see,” said the crowd about him. 

“Sit on him, Billy,” said Charles Weatherford to the boy 
of seven who was astride the horse’s back before the words 
were fairly out of his father’s mouth and taking his place 
with the horses just starting on the race. At sight of the 
young Muscogee across Red Flame’s back the woods roared 
with the applause of the warriors who were betting on the 
sorrel with a white star in his face. 

On they came but it was evident the sorrel hadn’t warmed 
up to the occasion, and the traders jeered as he fell behind. 
The traders were backing a young filly sent to the track by 
George Galphin who was at that time living in his villa at 
Silver Bluff, upon the Savannah, enjoying an immense for- 
tune that he’d made in commerce with the Indians. In the 
Revolution Galphin was a rebel and very patriotic, therefore, 
not very popular among the Muscogees who were getting 
very sore towards the Americans. 

When Red Flame so soon showed signs of failure the 
traders wagged their heads to Dan Beasley and said, “Git out 
your money and settle !” 


68 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


“Red Flame's going to win,” said Beasley. It was then the 
Red Eagle rubbed his face against the horse’s neck in a ca- 
ressing way that lengthened his strides, and blew his breath 
on Gen. Milfort’s slim built back, he had just purchased from 
Mason, the robber, from the Cumberland. The sorrel’s breath 
fired the black and he shot ahead and ran abreast with Gal- 
phin’s filly that so far was in the lead. This coming up of the 
black put the filly on her mettle and increased her speed, but 
the black pressed her hard and she got excited and went all to 
pieces. Ben Durant had a horse on the track at the time, and so 
did William McIntosh — Old Rory’s son by the Creek woman, 
but they did nothing. to mention, and it seemed the race was 
going to be won by General Milfort’s horse. But directly 
Red Flame increased his speed beyond anything he’d shown 
before. The Red Eagle was crouched close to his back and 
the horse’s long, unbroken strides was carrying him along 
at a telling rate. When the filly went out every eye centered 
on the black, who showed every chance of victory, but Red 
Flame was coming closer and closer. 

Then the men began to swear ; curious oaths clouding the 
atmosphere. The Indian boy crouched forward and whis- 
pered something in the Indian tongue in the sorrel’s ear ; the 
horse heard and understood and laid down to his work. 

The black was doing his best. Up and up came the sorrel, 
but the winning post was near and the black was still ahead. 
Red Flame’s nostrils upon the black’s quarters ; up and up 
but not yet. Then the squatting child moved close up behind 
the horse’s ears, his small body lifted above the horse, and 
then the post flashed by — the sorrel had won. After that the 
Red Eagle raced horses until he reached his teens and then 
he became a young warrior and led young Muscogee bands 
against the Choctaws who’d got into the war with the Mus- 
cogees. 


During the Revolution a great many refugees, true to the 
flag of England, fled to the Mississippi Territory to escape 
Whig persecution. Numbers of them went by way of the 
Hickory Ground and were guests of *Colonel Alexander Mc- 

*Son of Lachlan McGillivray and brother to Mrs. Durant, and Mrs. 
Milfort and half brother to Weatherford’s mother, Sehoy of the 
Eagle Tribe- 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


69 


Gillivray whose hospitality was known from the Carolinas 
to the Gulf. Among these British royalists whom Colonel 
McGillivray assisted in finding homes in the Tensaw region 
were the Linders, Steadams, Johnsons, Browns, Kents and 
other families. 

The most conspicuous of these refugees was the aristocratic 
Linders who were natives of the Canton of Berne, in Switz- 
erland, of high culture and of considerable wealth. It was 
of great advantage to these exiles to settle near the estab- 
lished “Indian Countryman,” Samuel Mims, who lived with 
his squaw wife and half-breed children upon Lake Tensaw, 
a mile east of the Alabama river, two miles below the Cut- 
Off and sixty miles from Mobile. At this time Mims was 
doing a large commerce. He owned a counting house, pack- 
horse trains, plantations, slaves and cattle. 

He lived in a large house with sheds all around it, with 
various out-houses that all together occupied a square acre 
of ground. South of the house ran a long row of negro ca- 
bins. Each cabin owned its large sweet potato patch, and 
there were a great number of bee-gums inside the immense 
potato field. Back of this field green swamps with deep ra- 
vines large and dense enough to hold and conceal an army. 
Herds of cattle, with negro guards, lived summer and winter 
on the crisp grass and ever green canes of these swamps. 
From two sides of the square yard two stumpy roads led out; 
one to Mims’ Ferry upon the Alabama and the other down to 
the Lake where the Indian boys swam and kept their boats. 
Here the brave Indian, Manawa, and his sons fished and hunt- 
ed with the white people and showed them deeds of kind- 
ness. 

Another very wealthy British refugee was Major William 
McGrew, who owned McGrew’s grant, upon the Tombigbee 
river. 

Then there was the McGirths, and the Baileys who settled 
upon the Tallapoosa, and David Francis, who settled as sil- 
versmith, at Autauga upon the Alabama, and the refugee Mc- 
Queen who settled at Tallassee. All the above named people 
who figure in this story were British refugees — a class en- 
tirely distinct from the bold and splendid pioneers, such as 
the Dales, the Smiths and Austills. Though all these refu- 


70 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


gees were people of good standing save the McQueens and 
the Francis’s whose half-breed children out did the full- 
blooded Indians in deeds of savage cruelty. 

As time advanced the Spanish town, St. Stephens, and its 
vicinity, formed the “Bigby Settlement,” which very soon 
was the foremost white settlement of the entire region north 
of Mobile. St. Stephens was not far from McIntosh Bluff 
and after the growth of the Bigby Settlement “the eastern 
door” opened and Georgia turned her emigrants into the Mis- 
sissippi Territory and it was then that Alexander McGillivray 
knew no peace of mind. Generous and hospitable he enter- 
tained friend and foe. The friends he most cared for were 
Captain Linder of Tensaw and his brother-in-law Le Clerc 
Milfort. There were two other men with whom he was inti- 
mately associated, Wiliam Panton, and Governor Miro, of 
West Florida, but all the time Colonel McGillivray was sus- 
picious of Panton, and all the while Don Miro was suspic- 
ious of Colonel McGillivray, this ever existing suspicion was 
death to what otherwise would have been a deep and affec- 
tionate friendship between Alexander McGillivray and these 
two men. The position held by Colonel McGillivray was one 
that no other man could have filled any better than he did. 

When John Pierce, from New England, established at Lake 
Tensaw the first American school in Alabama, he taught the 
wealthy half-bloods, the Taits, McGillivrays, Durants’, Mims’, 
Weatherford’s, Beasley’s and Moore’s, with the aristocratic 
Linder’s, Steadham’s, Hall’s, Brynes’ and others of high stand- 
ing and Saxon blood. 

History says that while David Tait was well educated and 
that his brother. Jack Weatherford, went to school that the 
Red Eagle was fighting outside Indian tribes in his youth and 
was gambling with the Spaniards in his young manhood. So 
it must have been that it was not in the Tensaw school house 
that young Weatherford first made love to Lilia Beasley, 
but in her Coosawda home just across the Coosa from the 
Race Track. It was from here they called him to target prac- 
tice near the river. 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


71 


“Ah, that was grand! Bang! Bang! Bang!” 

“Billy Weatherford, you hit the mark every time,” exclaim- 
ed the little yellow half-breed, Peter McQueen of Tallassee, 
the most subtle and the most cruel of all the half-bloods in 
the nation, unless it was the Little Warrior, who day and 
night was gone on a scalp hunt. 

Billy Weatherford was very fond of target practice and 
never missed his mark, but the mark set up by Peter Mc- 
Queen was invariably left full faced and impudent. After a 
little McQueen said, “If you have had your fill of fun of this, 
we will ride down to Autauga and look at knives. I hear 
David Francis has some beauties. When we have taken our 
pick I’ll swear to beat you in the next practice.” 

“I know you lead in scalp hunting,” said Billy Weather- 
ford, “but it is a barbarous thing, and a thing I’d never done 
unless there was a need for it.” 

“Stinkie, you never,” said McQueen, “when I’ve see you 
hid clean out with ’em.” 

“You never saw the scalp of any man’s at my belt save the 
scalp of an enemy; and never the scalp of a woman.” 

“Do you know,” said the little yellow fellow, “I’d rather 
scalp a woman than a man?” 

“I have thought so,” said Weatherford. 

“I just love to see their hands fly to their hair, and hear ’em 
squeal; it’s fine!” 

It was along in the afternoon when Weatherford and Mc- 
Queen entered the silver smith’s shop at Autauga, where the 
Indians flocked in droves to see and to gossip as the whites 
flocked to St. Stephens. In the shop they found many promi- 
nent chiefs, Big Warrior of Tookabatcha, High Head Jim of 
Auttose, William McIntosh, son of Roderick McIntosh, the 
Little Prince, the Mad Dragon’s son, Sanote, Manawa, the 
Little Warrior, Mad Dog, Double Head, and Captain Isaacs 
of Coosawda. When Weatherford entered the shop, every 
man wheeled about, faced him and “Ho! Muscogee! Ho! Ho!” 
came like a wave to greet him. While the warriors clus- 
tered about him Peter McQueen selected the keenest edged 
knife in the shop, a two-edged knife and pointed. In Francis’ 
shop there were beautiful ores, and metals, specimens of what 
the spurs, and buckles, bands and other Indian ornaments 
were made of. There were also many varieties of handsome- 


72 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


ly carved shell combs and rings and pins of shell. Sitting in 
a corner by himself was young *Francis, son of the Irish sil- 
versmith by the Muscogee woman, doing fine filigree work 
on a scarf pin. Weatherford had ordered the scarf pin made, 
and designed it. Studded hi the fine filigree work of silver 
were many small pearls of exquisite quality, glistening as it 
did in the hands of the Irish Indian youth who in a dreamy 
way seemed oblivious of his surroundings, taking no part in 
the sharp bargains made by the Irish father. The young man 
was dreaming dreams and seeing visions, off there to himself. 
He had gone the night before to Shell Island, into Muna’s 
cave and he had seen strange things in there. Muna looked 
just as she did when her hair turned grey just after she’d 
seen the French break her father on a wheel in Louisiana, 
but she looked no older, only her eyes ; the look of the sor- 
ceress had driven out every spark of pity from them. 

When Peter McQueen had paid David Francis for his knife 
the latter turned about for other customers and he saw com- 
ing in the door, Thelma Wolfe. There was something inde- 
scribable about this woman. With a sense of wild unrest she 
approached Francis to look at a pair of bracelets she had 
ordered made. The bracelets were heavy and heavily carved, 
“too heavy” she pronounced them and refused to take them. 

It angered her when David Francis insisted that she should 
take them. He declared the bracelets were just what she 
had ordered, and that they had proved a care and an expense 
to him beyond the price. It was when she turned in a fit of 
passion to stamp her foot at the silver smith in fury that her 
eyes fell upon Weatherford conversing among the Chiefs 
lower down the store. Then her whole mood changed and 
there came a soft light into her face, with little curves about 
her mouth. It was then Francis clasped the bracelets, one 
on each of the woman’s arms, and she never said him nay. 
This Thelma Wolfe, no one in the valley could tell for sure 
who she was, she was like none of the Mad Wolf’s breed liv- 
ing in the fork of the Tombigbee and the Alabama. The why 
she was called Thelma Wolfe was because of a locket she 
wore when a terrible cloud burst tore the Coosa from her 
bed and sent her on a rage to the Gulf bearing upon her bo- 
som a tiny cradle of bark that washed ashore on Shell Island 


*Do not get this Francis mixed with the Shawnee prophet. 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


73 


and Mima thought at first Heaven had sent her a child until 
she saw the look of the French about it and then she clasped 
her hands about the infant’s throat to kill it and cast it back 
into the waters when she felt the small gold locket there and 
while in eager curiosity to open the locket and see inside she 
threw the infant down on the sand and forgot it and went 
back into her cave and fastened the locket about her own 
neck, and it was there, and the infant was lying on the sand 
among the drift-wood when Ben Durant moored his boat 
to the Island shore to see if Muna had been swept away in 
the flood. She showed him the locket and told him its story 
and he went out to find the infant and he adopted it and raised 
it as his wife’s and his own child. But she was never civilized 
as the Durant children, and she always wanted to live at Se- 
hoy Weatherford’s house to play with the children there, 
Billy, and Hannah and Jack. 

When Hannah married Sam McNac she went to live with 
Hannah. The McNacs lived on the Federal road and kept a 
tavern to accommodate travellers. Although Thelma Wolfe 
had left, pretty much, the home of the Durants they support- 
ed her and seemed to care for her. 

Inside the small locket the witch found around her neck 
was a miniature, the face of a beautiful woman, and in tiny 
letters was engraved “Thelma de Wolfe.” 

That she had painted the glory of love around Weather- 
ford was well known. To arouse his passionate nature, to 
make it respond to her own was the one scheme of her life. He 
felt her emotions for him and he knew these emotions ex- 
ceeded any love that others would ever feel for him; though 
he held “a kingly nest in many a fair Muscogee’s breast.” 

Lachlan Durant loved Thelma Wolfe, and she had a perfect 
aversion for him, that her aversion was but her nature, he 
knew, and he loved her on. In fascination he’d watch her 
eyes like storm tossed lightning blaze and burn in jealous rage 
of Lilia Beasley. 

At this time Weatherford was making very prolonged vis- 
its to Mobile and his absence was wearing her out. In Mo- 
bile he received much polite attention from the Spanish au- 
thorities. Of mornings they carried him driving in their cha- 
riots and evenings they feted him, and gambled with him. 
The Governor, whose place was a large stone building, orna- 


74 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


merited with a tower, invited Weatherford to make his house 
his headquarters. So absorbed had the “Hope of the Na- 
tion” become in his private affairs that it was hard to induce 
him even to attend the council meetings. His coming into 
David Francis’ store was most opportune to the Chiefs who 
had become very much divided over the Federal Road that 
was bringing emigrants by the thousand into the heart of 
the Muscogee nation. 

Mad Dog, Mad Wolf, and Double Head opposed the road 
most furiously and were for closing it up, while the educated 
mixed bloods, as a rule, favored the Federal Road. This road 
was to the southwest what the “National Road” was to the 
northwest. The pioneers of the south had cried out for this 
road as the pioneers of the west had cried out for the National 
Road and Washington had urged the building of it. There in 
the shop of the silversmith Big Warrior said to Weatherford, 
“If the Americans teach us the natural laws that govern com- 
merce by building at their own expense good roads that will 
be smooth to our moccasined feet why should we look fierce- 
ly into their pale faces and shake our tomahawks at them? 
They have taught us that it is more noble to yoke the oxen 
that they may bear the heavy burdens hitherto borne upon 
the backs of our women; they have taught our children to 
speak out of books, and they are trying to teach us to live 
at peace with each other.” 

At the Big Warrior’s talk the dreamy looking youth appa- 
rently so absorbed in his work upon the beautiful filigree 
scarf pin, raised his head and hissed. The hiss was taken up 
by McQueen, High Head Jim and others who were hostile to 
the whites, but the face and acts of Weatherford told no 
tales and none that were there knew what he thought. Big 
Warrior was at this time leading Chief in the nation for 
Weatherford seemed more disposed to lead in the wars with 
neighboring tribes than to meddle with politics, but the hos- 
tile Indians had determined to bear upon him to make him 
espouse the cause of complaint against the whites that grew 
with the coming of every canvassed covered wagon into the 
southwest. * * * 

In August of 1809, the Shawnee Indian, Tecumseh, said to 
General Harrison at Vincennes, “Give up our lands and buy 
no more, and I will ally with the United States. If vou re- 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


75 


fuse I will war against the United States, and ally with Eng- 
land.” 

“I refuse,” answered Harrison. 

The enraged Chieftain replied : 

“Already the Osages, Sacs and Foxes are on the war path 
and Tecumseh alone can turn them back.” 

“We will meet the Osages, Sacks and Foxes,” replied Gen- 
eral Harrison. 

From Vincennes Tecumseh went to the Governor-General 
of Canada and said, “The Pattawattamies, the Delawares and 
the Miamies are selling their lands to the Americans. The 
Great Spirit gave all these lands to the Red-men. No tribe 
can sell without the consent of all. The Americans think to 
own this world and the Hereafter.” 

“You are right,” said the Governor-General, “they will push 
you into the big Lakes if your friends, the English would 
allow them to.” 

“We will ally?” said the Shawnee. 

“Yes,” said the Governor-General. 

“The Great Spirit bids me sweep the land from the Lakes 
to the Gulf,” said Tecumseh as he strode himself from the 
room. 

In the Illinois country massacres, raids on farmers and 
horse-stealing followed close on the insurgent’s tracks. 

“We must build forts and stockades,” said neighbor to 
neighbor. 

“The British are sending wampum to the Sioux,” shouted 
the pony express as it galloped down the Natchez Trace into 
the south. 

When Tecumseh and his thirty warriors, mounted on 
horses, passed through the country of the Chickasaws and 
Choctaws, they found no following, but in Florida they were 
hailed as prophets by the Seminoles. 

In the month of August Tecumseh and his prophets came 
galloping into Autauga asking for young Francis, the silver- 
smith, who received them with demonstrations of great joy. 

From Autauga Tecumseh’s wampum belts found every trail. 
The Mad Dog, of Tookabatcha, Senota, Double Head, Mana- 
wa, Peter McQueen, High Head Jim, Little Warrior and all 
the Chiefs, hostile to the whites, gathered in crowds to wel- 
come the great and the renowned Tecumseh. From Autauga 


76 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


the crowd followed him to Coosawda, then to the Hickory 
Ground into the courts of royalty where they were enter- 
tained by Alexander McGillivray’s sisters. Warriors were 
now flocking to meet Tecumseh from all parts of the nation. 

Many of these warriors in their boyhood days had hunted 
the buffalo with this strangely gifted Indian when he had 
visited them in his youth. His parents were born and bred 
at Souvanogee, upon the Tallapoosa River, and moved from 
there to the forest of Ohio where Tecumseh was born. 

It was in October that the agent, Colonel Benjamin 
Hawkins, met at Tookabatcha in grand council with the 
tribes, and Tecumseh decided to make at that time his grand- 
est demonstration. Tookabatcha had never looked so grand 
and so gay as she looked then. A golden sun glittered upon 
the faces of five thousand Indians besides the whites and ne- 
groes who lived there. And thronging the town were visitors 
and traders from everywhere. It was late in the day of Col- 
onel Hawkins’ first address to the Indians that the Shaw- 
nee party marched into the great square. Their appearance 
was hideous, and their bearing pompous and ceremonious. 

Save their flaps and decorations they were entirely naked. 
They marched round and round the square, then approached 
the Chiefs, one at a time, and greeted them and exchanged 
tobacco with them. All the Chiefs met them cordially save 
Captain Isaacs of Coosawda who shook his head at them and 
said, “Tecumseh is a bad man and no greater than I.” When 
the Chiefs invited him to speak, he said, “The sun has gone 
too far, Tecumseh will make his talk tomorrow.” But each 
day the wily Chieftain postponed his talk. When Colonel 
Hawkins was gone from the town then Tecumseh held a 
grand council in the Round House at Tookabatcha and made 
his talk. With the medal of George 3rd upon his breast this 
noted Indian arose and addressed the assembly. With flowery 
language he opened his speech, referring to the Tallapoosa as 
the birth-place of his parents, and to the two years he’d spent 
in the nation of his youth, then he told of the rivers of blood 
he’d shed in Ohio (which pleased the Tookabatchas), dwelt 
on the grandeur of the Muscogee nation, then he warmed to 
the present time. 

“I come to warn you of the treachery of the Americans,” 
he said. I beg you to assimilate in no way with this thieving, 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


77 


grasping people. Scorn their civilization. Tell them that 
civilization has no part or place in Indian plans.” With a 
wild sweep of his hand he cried, “Roll back this swelling tide 
of white immigration. Tell them that we hold this land for 
wild beasts and wilder men. Tell the Americans that Eng- 
land is back of the Indians. Tell them that England de- 
clares that the territory between the Lakes and the great 
Gulf of the south shall be forever set apart as Indian terri- 
tory ; that for herself she will only claim a portion of the coun- 
try lying along the great seas of the rising and the setting 
sun.” 

It was at this moment that the crowd made way for Wea- 
therford coming in who took the seat his station demanded. 
This young Chieftain, tall and straight, was dressed in tas- 
selled hunting shirt of green, with wampum belt about his 
waist. Embroidered leggins of deep crimson dye rested upon 
moccasins of the rattle snake’s skin. He wore his hair just 
touching his shoulder as his father in his lifetime had worn 
his and as did most of the mixed bloods. His forehead was 
bound in green cloth, fastened to the left with a crimson eagle 
quill. The keen eyes of Tecumseh fastened quickly upon the 
proud face and form of Weatherford and he rapidly formed 
his conclusions. Then he literally thrilled the audience with 
his eloquence. At the close of his speech he said, “where is 
the Muscogee who will lead his nation to victory?” 

Instantly the gleaming eyes of the hostile warriors cen- 
tered on Weatherford and they circled around him calling 
his name in the Indian tongue. “Lamochattee, Lamochattee !” 
they shouted, but the Red Eagle stood aloof, silent and re- 
served. 

It was nearly daylight when the council adjourned, and the 
greater part of th.e audience had resolved to go to war with 
the Americans, although Weatherford remained neutral and 
the Big Warrior declared for peace. To those who took the 
Shawnee’s talk he presented small red sticks, emblematical 
of the red-coated English soldiers — hence the “Red Stick 
War.” Tecumseh visited Weatherford in his home at the 
Race Track and resorted to every art to arouse his most sav- 
age passions, and to drive him back to barbarism. He taught 
him “the war dance of the Lakes,” and carried him to Muna’s 
cave to arouse his superstition. The groanings he heard in 


78 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


the cave that seemed to come from the bowels of the earth, 
he was told was the agony of his ancestor, Tooka, imploring 
him to drive the Pale-faces from the nation. Yet through it 
all he was apparently unmoved and returned to Pensacola and 
won from the rich. Spaniards their gold in great quantities 
with which he beautified the magnificent estate left him by 
his father. Since his mother’s death he had united the Race 
Track place with the lower plantation by purchasing his sis- 
ter Hannah’s and brother Jack’s interests. 

The wigwams of his red tenants dotted the foot hills and 
valleys of a vast region. Some times in the grey rock home 
he indulged in seasons of debauchery ; allowing none about 
him save the hunch-back spy who seemed to love him with 
an idolatrous love. The spy was small for a man, and very 
black, with a kinky head like a negro, though, save the black 
skin and head of kinks there was no resemblance to a negro. 
Phy, was the spy’s name, and he claimed to be a white man 
that was born black because of the anger of Allah, the ne- 
gro’s God, towards his mother for making sport of black peo- 
ple. Weatherford had heard this tale from the poor hunch- 
back’s lips but he thought it an African joke and laughed at 
it. The reason he allowed the spy about him was because 
in his seasons of drunkenness the spy was the only one who 
dared to come into his presence. 

When Tecumseh, and his prophets, returned to Canada 
he carried the Little Warrior and a band of Muscogees back 
with him. When the latter returned they brought back with 
them letters to the British agents in Florida ordering them 
to furnish the Indians with extensive supplies of arms and 
ammunition. In returning these Muscogees robbed and mur- 
dered all along their route. Although the friendly Indians 
acted with great promptness in punishing the Little War- 
rior and his thirty warriors it did not prevent the commis- 
sion of other murders, but rather stimulated them. 


The spring of 1813 found the worst fears of the settlers 
of the Mississippi Territory realized. The Indians were 
growing more and more insulting every day. Chief Ocheoce 
and his warriors dropped down the Tombigbee in their ca- 
noes, landed at St. Stephens, stalked into the Factory and 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


79 


boldly demanded of George S. Gaines, the United States Choc- 
taw Factor, goods upon a credit. Upon being refused they 
told him that very soon they would attack the town and seize 
the Factory. The friendly Chiefs in wild alarm implored 
the whites to go to war before the hostiles were thoroughly 
organized. But Colonel Hawkins protested aganst such ac- 
tion on the part of the whites ; declaring the greater part of 
the Indians were friendly to the Federal Government, and for 
the whites to attack these marauding parties would bring 
about a race war, when all the Indians would rally to the 
Eagle Standard and would follow Weatherford into battle. “If 
the whites,” declared Colonel Hawkins, “will avoid coming 
in contact with the Indians, stay at home and attend to their 
business, civil war will break out between the Indians that 
after repeated battles will become so fierce that in revenge- 
upon each other' one party will allow the whites to join them.. 
At present Weatherford shows no signs of joining either the ; 
peace or the war party.” 

Such was the agent’s advice. Still silent, and reserved’, , 
Weatherford attended none of the councils, and attended 
strictly to his own business. No man to this day, knows his 
motive. 

He was in love with Major Beasley’s daughter, Lilia ; and 
Beasley had sworn to be true to his white blood. Undoubt- 
edly he was more or less influenced in this, and he was using 
every art to induce the maiden to flee with him from her fath- 
er. Then, there were two souls in the man — the soul of; 
Marchand, calling him back from savage deeds, and the soul 
of Tooka, driving him on to them. 

“There is no place in this world for me !” one day he ex- 
claimed to Lilia Beasley. 

“Oh, Weatherford,” she said, “your dauntless courage, 
your charming gallantry has given you a place with me.” 

“Not strong enough to make you mine,” he said sullenly. 

“Oh, you know when times are settled, father says I may 
go to your house,” she said. 

“Ah, Marchand,” he said, “were it not for the burden of 
thy soul upon me I would seize this woman and drag her to 
my den.” There were savage lines about the hard mouth 
and into the deep eyes Major Beasley’s daughter saw some. 


80 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


thing so savage that she grew frightened and cast a quick 
look towards her father’s house. 

“Fear you me, Lilia Beasley?” he said. 

“I do not like the look of you,” she said, “there is a wild 
look in your eyes like unto the eagle bird.” 

“When it swoops down on the spotted Fawn,” he laughed. 

“Ah,” she said, “ ’tis thus I like you, and I do not fear you 
now.” 

This was the last day that Major Beasley and his daughter 
were to spend at Coosawda before going to Mount Vernon 
to live. Beasley was growing suspicious of Weatherford in 
many ways. He had seen his eyes upon Lilia like a slum- 
bering fire whenever big, good looking Ike Heaton, with 
his blue eyes and yellow hair was in her presence. Friends 
had told him that the Red Eagle was only waiting the chance 
to steal his daughter and then he would come out and de- 
clare himself as Grand Chief of the war party. So conceited 
was the father concerning his daughter that he thought noth- 
ing would induce the Red Eagle to go to war, with Lilia in 
white camps, so he was carrying his daughter to the protec- 
tion of Fort Stoddard at Mount Vernon upon the Tombigbee. 
The White Wolf knew not on the last day at Coosawda that 
the Red Eagle was lightly treading his way to the grape 
vine swing on the river bank. When Weatherford neared 
the place and saw the maiden swinging and heard her sing- 
ing in the grape vine swing he paused and listened. 

“ ‘The honey-bud blooms when the spring time is green 

Terra-re! Terra-re! 

But ’tis spring all the year, 

When my loved one is near, 

And his smiles are like beaming blossoms to me 

Oh, to rove over the hill-tops, young Chieftain, with thee !’ ” 

When the song was hushed, Weatherford approached the 
swing and said, 

“Tell me the meaning of this blue bird’s song, ‘Terra-re! 

Terra-re! Terra-re!’” 

“The meaning is love, love, love,” the maiden said. 

Then the unfathomable eyes looked down deep into hers 
and the chieftain said, “I would fondly claim thee, Lilia, for 
mine own.” 

“Dost thou love me, Weatherford?” 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


SI 


The red lips half apart gleamed towards his own, and whis- 
pering soft Indian words of love in her ear he gathered her to 
his embrace. 

It was a fortnight after this, while young Francis who 
had left his father’s shop and gone into the woods to teach 
the poorer Indians the dance of the Lakes that the wealthy 
Indians assembled in the banqueting halls of Autauga to 
smoke, drink taffai and to gamble. Men and women of dif- 
ferent shades were absorbed in sport. 

Just inside one of the small rooms, seated at a table, was 
Weatherford with Thelma Wolfe, just those two, and they 
were seated near the door. When the fiddlers set up a rol- 
licking tune the feet of the crowd began to balance with their 
bodies until one by one they left the hall and went into the 
square. Men, boys and squaws answered to the music, all, 
save Weatherford and Thelma Wolfe; but the sound failed 
to win these two. When they felt themselves alone, Weath- 
erford, with an almost imperceptible movement softly closed 
the door then scattered the cards, mixing them all up. The 
woman flushed and cast a look of fury at him. 

“I’d have won on that hand,” she said. 

“You may have Perez,” he said, looking down as one in 
deep abstraction. 

“Have Perez,” she said in scorn, “I will win him from you 
as you won him from the Spaniard.” 

“Look here,” he said, looking up, “I’ve no more time to 
waste on you, and I am tired of having you forever storm- 
ing at me. It’s the horse you want, take him and welcome, 
but tell me of your trip to Fort Stoddard.” 

“If it’s news of Fort Stoddard you’d have, go there your- 
self,” she said. 

“The White Wolf has ordered his men to slay me, dare I 
approach the gates?” 

“Why has the White Wolf ordered the death of the Red 
Eagle?” she asked in a sneering way, “is it because he fears 
his Lilia will answer the Eagle’s scream if he come near? Bah, 
think not to fool me with your wiles.” 

“I thought it was the horse you wanted, not I,” he said. 

For answer she filled the low stone mug with taffai and 
drank it clean. Then she smiled as of old and languished 
upon him and said, “Shuffle the cards, I would win the horse 


82 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


but not as a gift.” But he never answered the smile and 
he sat there beside the living flame and wondered if ’twere 
best to strike her. It was a strong game between these two, 
hers was to hold him on, and his was to throw her off. When 
she saw he was going to sull she said in tones of the ag- 
gressive gambler, “Pick up those cards and start afresh.” 
In a vicious way he picked up the cards and pitching them 
towards her said, “Deal them yourself, you’re a better dealer 
than I am.” She dealt them silently and quickly but he 
scowled and refused to take his hand. 

“Be done with this, a;id tell me oh your trip to Mount Ver- 
non,” he said. 

She turned to him slowly and in the strange eyes there 
was a look of warning but while she looked at him he harden- 
ed^and turned and left her and passed out of the door into 
the night. He was scarcely gone before she sprang to her 
feet and went to a body that was lying without sound of life, 
in a dark recess of the room, partly under some rolls of straw 
matting carelessly thrown there. None had noticed the body 
lying there without sign of life, only the woman had felt its 
presence. Throwing the matting to one side she peered into 
the face with eyes looking straight at her. “I might have 
known it was you,” she said in contempt. 

“Yes, it is Peter McQueen,” the half breed from Tallassee 
answered lightly. 

“I wanted to know just how it was. He sent you to Fort 
Stoddard to find out the line up,” he said ; “he didn’t know 
that I knew it was to find out if that blue-eyed, yellow-haired 
Ike Heaten, Federal Scout, was confining his scouting to 
Mount Vernon. Ha, ha!” and the little mongrel laughed 
in glee. “But come on,” he said suddenly springing up, “if 
you are going on with me tonight we’d best be moving.” 

They were mounted almost as he spoke for their horses 
left outside were fastened to a swinging limb close to a shut- 
ter window, and Thelma Wolfe stepped from the framing of 
the window, one foot into the man’s hand and sprang lightly 
upon the horse’s back and they rapidly ascended the foot-hills 
leading Northeast. It was when the place was steep and they 
were forced to draw up that McQueen said, “Everything is 
depending upon the small bit of a woman, the White Wolf’s 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


83 

daughter.” He saw under a round moon the scorn of the 
full lips. With subtle cruelty he said: 

“You expect to accomplish your purpose, to hold Weather- 
ford ?” 

“Yes,” she said, and her life-force made her feel her power 
to do it. 

“You act like you was jealous,” he said, and waited her 
answer but her answer was drowned in a sudden scream of 
a night hawk. 

Directly he said, “You know what there is ahead of us, of 
you and me?” 

“I know,” she answered, “that the life of the nation is 
going out for want of Weatherford.” 

“We must know and know soon what Lilia Beasley means 
to do,” he said fiercely. 

“I know what Lilia Measley means to do,” Thelma Wolfe 
cried, “I know what Lilia Beasley means to do” she repeated 
passionately, “she means to be Weatherford’s bride !” 

“Then the nation is lost ! With her soft arms about his 
neck he ne’er will lead the warriors to her father’s death. 
We must keep them apart, arouse his jealousy! make her 
scorn him for this Ike Heaton.” He looked hard in her face 
to wring some expression from her. All he saw there was 
her passion for his Chief. It had always lain naked at sight, 
or mention of the Muscogee. Her emotions for him she could 
not conceal. If ’twere some slight from Weatherford a suf- 
fering outraged anger was there. If he’d use some spell to 
draw her to him how tender was her delight. McQueen had 
ever though it was fun to watch her and plague her for the 
love she had ever borne for him. 

After a long pause between them when their horses were 
allowed to slow up McQueen said, “He thinks you’ve been 
to Mount Vernon.” 

“How knowest thou to the contrary?” she asked. 

“I, who never slumber nor sleep, keep night and day in 
sight of the forces who are driving our nation.” 

“I have always known you were a devil,” she said. 

“Yes, ’’then he looked at her and said what is that you are 
carrying in your hand? I see a glimmer of it every now and 
then; it isn’t a dirk for the devil, is it?” For answer she held 
to his view a pipe of silver bowl and decorated stem. 


84 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


“It is Weatherford’s.” 

“Yes, he left it on the table.” He bought it of an Ohio In- 
dian yesterday, giving in exchange for it Perez and inside ot. 
an hour had won Perez back at dice.” It was then a hungry 
wolf ran across their path and snapped at them but they never 
noticed the wolf and it ran off and howled. The dawn was 
creeping upon these two when they parted, going in dif- 
ferent directions, each bent upon the mission they had sworn 
to perform. Thelma Wolfe was grand spy of the Red Stick 
party. She could assume so many disguises and was so good 
at every thing that it takes to make up the spy that often 
she fooled the ones who were up to her, all but the little half- 
breed of Tallassee. 

The week after, young Francis, who shall hereafter be 
known as the prophet Francis, at the head of a body of war- 
riors galloped up to the Race Track, and “Whooped!” as they 
drew rein at the Red Eagle’s gate. They told the chieftain 
that Ike Heaton was ordered by the Federal Government to 
arrest him and take him to Fort Stoddard on a charge of 
treason. In contempt of their power Weatherford, who had 
never declared his sentiments, mounted his horse and with 
only his body servant set out to Fort Stoddard to demand of 
Colonel Claiborne the meaning of such reports. On reach- 
ing Fort Stoddard Weatherford was received in all kindness 
by the brigadier-general of volunteers and informed that 
there was no such arrangement on foot. 

Not suspecting the scheme of Peter McQueen and Thelma 
Wolfe the Red Eagle laid the insulting report up against 
Heaton who was entirely innocent. Owing to the many mas- 
sacres, the settlers were forming large parties for self-pro- 
tection. Almost without exceptions “the old Indian country- 
men” were leaving their Indian wives and mongrel children, 
where they could not be induced to join the peace party, and 
fleeing to stockades. But many of the Indian women and 
their children preferred the peace party and fled from the 
Red-sticks in wildest terror; for instance the Durants, Bai- 
leys, Beasleys and many others. 

Most unhappily was the Weatherford family divided. Han- 
nah McNac, with her sons, early joined the war party while 
her husband as quickly joined the American volunteers as 
did the younger brother, Jack Weatherford, and David Tait. 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


85 


Again Weatherford made a formal declaration for Lilia 
Beasley’s hand and was more positively refused by her fa- 
ther than in the first proposal. Major Beasley knew when 
Indians moved into the woods and practiced incantations that 
they were preparing for war, and he had become thoroughly 
determined that his daughter should not be allowed to see 
the Red Eagle under any circumstances, but it happened when 
Weatherford was leaving the fort, after seeing General Clai- 
borne, that he almost ran against Major Beasley’s daughter 
who at the time was passing by. 

'‘Oh, Weatherford!” she faintly sighed. 

“Oh Lilia!” he replied. 

For a while in the shade of wild shrubbery growing around 
the walls of the fort they conversed in low tones then she 
went with him towards the wild woods where together they 
roamed the hill tops as of yore. Scarce were they from the 
shrubbery gone when the little half-breed from Tallassee and 
the Black Dwarf met, spoke a few words and then passed 
to separate paths. When Weatherford and Lilia chose to 
rest in quiet shade and talk the Black Dwarf crawled into 
dense wild growth and listened, and heard Weatherford say, 
“Lilia, I come again to claim thee for mine own, why delay?” 
At look of trouble on her brow he said, “When once the 
White Wolf knows his Forest Flower has fled with her eagle 
mate he will change his mood and say to thee, ^forgiven’.” 

“Yes, verily I think he will,” she said, “but in yonder hut 
there is a man sent from God.” 

“From Manitou?” 

“No, from the white man’s God,” she said, “and with mine 
ears I heard him say that man and woman ne’er could wed 
unless a man of God were there to make them one.” 

“When the eagle leads to his nest his mate they are joined 
by every law of sanctity,” he said. 

“That may do for birds but not for people, Weatherford,” 
she said. When he scowled, she drew herself back and said, 
“Any way, I ne’er will be thy bride unless the man of God 
gives me to thee, for such I promised him ; for he had heard 
that thou wert wooing me.” 

“This is but a scheme to keep thee from me, my Forest 
Flower,” said Weatherford. 

“To do otherwise is ‘low and base,’ so the new law says.” 


86 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


“To please you I will go and see this man in yonder hut 
and we will see what gold will do.” 

“Dost mean,” she said, in a frightened way, “that then we 
will wed? for it was gold I saw the officer give, to the man 
of God, when he was to his woman wed.” 

“ Tis gold, and gold alone, that will wrench us from this 
scheme,” he said, “but ’tis out from this bower of love we go, 
my queen, — ’tis one last kiss I ask — .” The small black hands 
of the dwarf flew to his ears to drown the sound that like 
sword thrust bled the heart beneath the circular cape. 

It was the noon hour and the Black Dwarf had only a min- 
ute’s time to glide into the sleeping chamber of Major Beas- 
ley e’re the drum would beat to call the fort to dinner. The 
old man stood before a mirror coming his thin hair and brush- 
ing his long grey beard. Although he had so grayish grown 
he looked well the old dandy, and in ruffled shirt and waist- 
coat gay he turned to meet, with bow and smile, the step he’d 
thought to be his child, with whom he’d go to meet the ladies, 
just come in to Stoddard. Beasley’s Indian spouse, mother of 
Lilia, had long been dead and he was general beau to the la- 
dies of the fort, and he delighted in it, and ever sought their 
company. 

When the Black Dwarf had declared his mission, in rage 
the father said, “Has the villian dared to seek audience with 
•my child?” 

“He had dared, and even now doth boast that ere the night 
the White Wolf’s daughter will be his bride.” 

“Ills come with time ; I had not thought that one so pure 
could wed with one so base ! But how is this, Black Dwarf, spy 
of Weatherford’s — is not this foul play?” I have my Lilia’s 
word, and I’ve been ever trustful of my child, that she would 
ne’er this chieftain wed unless the man in yonder hut were 
there to make them one. I brought the man to her and made 
her tell him so.” 

“ ’Twas the Red Eagle’s gold, that piles as high as I, that 
won the “black coat” from his word, who, but waits to see 
thee leave the town when he will make thy Lilia no longer 
obedient to her father’s will.” 

“We will see. Go quickly Dwarf, and spy as thou hast never 
spied before upon this so-called man of God. Ere the hour 
is gone, ’tis to Mims I’ll take my child.” 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


87 


“To Mims, the new stockade?” 

“To Mims, the new stockade.” 

“ ’Tis there the bold Ike Heaton goes within an hour. He 
goes in cart, alone, and if the tales the Black Dwarf hears 
be true he’d deem himself blest of heaven to have thy daugh- 
ter by his side. 

“Tell me, black thing, what is the motive? What is my 
daughter to thee that thou should scheme to have her torn 
from the Red Eagle’s talons?” 

“I am in the employ of her to whom Weatherford plighted 
his troth before thy daughter had cast her spell upon him.” 

“Ah! I might have known at first ’twas woman’s work. 
They’ve ever played the devil with men, but go and watch the 
man in yonder hut.” 

“Mine eye has never left the place.” 

“Father !” 

“Go quickly out from here ; ’tis my daughter comes.” 


When Weatherford came into the missionary’s hut near 
the grounds of the Fort the man who wanted to organize 
a church at Mount Vernon received him kindly and the two 
engaged in quiet conversation on indifferent subjects until 
the time was far past the hour that Lilia Beasley had prom- 
ised to meet the Red Eagle in the shantie. 

Weatherford, suspecting his scheme had been discovered, 
bade the white man in long black coat adieu and left the hut 
without making known his errand. Scarce was he out on the 
street before he saw, galloping in his direction, Peter Mc- 
Queen mounted on a small grey stallion he claimed to have 
but recently purchased from Colonel McGrew. While times 
were perilous and the war cloud hung heavily over the land, 
yet, war had not been openly declared by either side and trade 
and traffic went on between the two parties. 

McQueen, after holding Weatherford in conversation as 
long as possible, said in an off-hand kind of way, “I met old 
Beasley with a party of volunteers going to Fort Mims 
scarce two hours ago, and in a cart tucked close up to Heaton 
was Lilia. They say he ceases not to make his boast that 
he has cut the Red Eagle out of the White Wolf’s daugh- 
ter.” 


88 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


“You tell the white hound for me,” said Weatherford, “that 
the first time we meet he will feel my whip across his face.” 

“Send the message by Thelma Wolfe,” said McQueen. “The 
White Hound is too true a mark for the half-breed of Talas- 
see.” 

“Where is Thelma Wolfe?” questioned Weatherford. 

“She too has gone to Fort Mims.” 

“Ha! is that so? Why goes she to Mims?” 

By subtle shade of tone and voice McQueen worked on 
Weatherford’s emotions until he’d well aroused the demon, 
jealousy, and then he said, “The news I had for thee, I’d most 
forgot.” 

“What is it asked the enraged chieftain, is it more of the 
White Hound’s scent?” 

“No, ’tis death of the Black Dwarf, I saw him die, shot 
down as a common spy by a band of young volunteers,” said 
McQueen. 

“Where is the body? There’s a mystery about the Black 
Dwarf I should have solved ere this. Had I not been so bent 
on winning Spanish gold I’d have given that Dwarf more 
thought. Where’s the body, I say?” 

“Fish bait in the Tombigbee,” answered McQueen, for ’twas 
there I saw the body drifting.” 

“But name the murderers to me and by Manitou ere the 
night fall they shall die ; erstwhile I’ll know no rest.” 

“Ask of yon murky sky who did it. I never saw the das- 
tards,” said McQueen in a bluff, “save at distance.” 

“Thou said ’twas volunteers.’ If thou was near and saw 
the Black Dwarf die how is it that thou didst gallop off alone, 
and then tell me the body is drifting out to sea?” 

“Blastie, Weatherford, I like not your tone of voice,” said 
the little yellow mongrel glaring into the chieftain’s face. The 
Red Eagle in scorn did mimic him and say, “ ‘Blastie Weath- 
erford’ — ’twas thus thou, with Scottish slang, didst ever dodge 
the truth. Now in scorn of my abuse clap the spurs into 
thy nag and go and tell it far and near that Weatherford, in 
one of his rages, has gone to his lair.” 

Swift indeed sped Peter McQueen from sight of Weather- 
ford, as did one and all, save Thelma Wolfe, when the glint of 
passion showed itself upon him. 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


89 


It was the following week that Weatherford visited St. 
Stephens. With stealthy glance he noted every way the fort 
was fixed for defense and then in haughty way he strode 
himself in James Magoffin’s store. Magoffin was a nice old 
bachelor brought up in the city of Philadelphia. He was high- 
ly educated, industrious, systematic and economical. In ad- 
dition to his store he was in the nursery busness in St. Steph- 
ens, and about his store and little cottage home he cultivated 
beautiful flowers. 

The Bigby people were very fond of the Yankee and it 
was there they congregated to discuss the signs of the times. 
Over at the Federal counting house the place was ever throng- 
ed with Indians, as ’twas there the Choctaw Factor, George S. 
Gaines, served the Choctaw nation in trade, and received 
from them the immense bales of furs for export. When 
Weatherford entered Magoffin’s store a hush fell, for it 
was of the Red Eagle the crowd was speaking. In there was 
Dr. Buchanan, with Dr. Crawford, Judge Lipscomb, the aris- 
tocratic Toulmin’s Chamberlains and others of the kind. Cap- 
tain James Collier, with almost a company of volunteers, 
young Creagh, Patrick May, Thomas James, Malone, Perkins, 
Smout, Henry Hitchcock and other volunteers. Young Hitch- 
cock was a native of New England and grandson of Colonel 
Ethan Allen. Weatherford in hunting suit, with moccasined 
feet, with gleaming knives from wampum belt, sullen and mo- 
rose was scarce but come in when close upon his heels came 
Ike Heaton. Yellow-haired, sunny-face Ike Heaton; clad in 
buckskin, fringed with brown, high-topped boots, spurs and 
pistols. One in boots, the other in moccasins, they stood the 
same, full six feet high and faced the other. The savage 
King in fury glinted at the fairer faced and he saw no fury 
there to mar his beauty but instead exalted man free from 
passion bare. Each man quickly to his counter turned and 
Heaton bought for himself a handsome pair of gloves with 
gauntlets long, reaching well towards the arm. During 
Weatherford’s purchase of ammunition Heaton passed from 
out the store with Judge Lipscomb at whose house he was 
to dine that day. 

A June sun had beamed hot and heavy into the low-limbed 
forests all day and the scouts Dale, Austill, Walker and Jim 
Smith was glad to be close to Sam McNac’s tavern when the 


90 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


last ray of light left them at his door. At the taverns they 
found things unsettled and almost alarming. Every thing 
boded a terrible Indian uprising, yet the canvassed covered 
wagons along the Federal; Road never ceased to pass the tav- 
ern day after day Father’s, mother’s, little children, too 
scared to breathe, ever looking for tomahawk and scalping 
knife, still faced death to find the home the heart has ever 
panted for. 

Hannah McNac with her sons had joined Francis, the pro- 
phet, in the woods, and were inspiring the warriors. Sam Mc- 
Nac, with his negro servants kept the tavern and the bar. 

The scouts were barely seated inside the long, low-ceiled 
public room when Peter McQueen came striding up to the 
bar with a fresh scalp at his belt. The blood froze in the 
white men’s veins when they saw the hair on the scalp was 
fine, and long, and of a light brown color. McQueen drained 
his glass and turned towards the men in an insolent manner 
a moment and then went out. Directly a common Indian 
came in with a raccoon skin that he threw down and called 
for a pint of rum and while McNac was smoothing out the 
curled edges of the fresh skin the Indian drank his pint of 
rum, and, he too went out. 

“There is something brewing,” said McNac to the scouts. 
“Yes,” the scouts said, “and we are going home, our horses 
are worn out and so are we, but we are going home.” 

As the men went after their horses a party of hostiles threw 
down the bars to McNac’s cow-pen and drove all of his cattle 
off. Hearing the commotion McNac called his negroes and 
ran to head off the cattle whereupon McQueen ordered the 
robbers to beat McNac and the negroes, who very soon fled 
under the heavy blows of the savages into the woods. 

It will always remain a question which brought on the 
Red Stick war, the Federal Road or Tecumseh. Since the 
Shawnee’s visit, dangers were multiplying in every corner of 
the Muscogee confederacy until the whole nation was agi- 
tated with quarrels, robberies, fights and massacres. In 
towns, fields, and woods the prophets were practicing their 
incantations and Indians dancing the “Dance of the Lakes.” 
Colonel Hawkins, the benighted agent, still counciled for 
peace. But in desperation men and boys began forming into 
bands to meet the war that was surely coming. When Col- 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


91 


onel Hawkins heard that the Snake tribes held prisoners at 
Auttose ready for torture, he sent runners to Tookabatcha to 
inform the Big- Warrior that he looked for him to release 
from the Auttose’s the white prisoners. A council at Tooka- 
batcha immediately sent a body of friendly warriors, led by 
the half-breed Chief McIntosh, who went into battle and res- 
cued the prisoners ; this so enraged the Red Sticks that they 
marched in such numbers against Tookabatcha that Hawkins 
was forced to send to Big Warrior’s assistance. Civil war 
now raged in earnest among the Indians. 

At this time the Federal Government feared to leave the 
port of Mobile longer in the hands of the Spaniards. Accord- 
ingly General Wilkinson sailed from New Orleans in vessels 
commanded by Commodore Shaw, cast anchor in Mobile Bay, 
marched up to the town, and took a position in the rear of 
Fort Charlotte. After a short correspondence the Spanish 
commandant, Perez, surrendered the fort, the stars and 
stripes were hoisted upon the ramparts of Fort Charlotte 
and the Spanish garrison retired to Pensacola. 

It now developed that Weatherford’s policy was to use 
the utmost secrecy in the war and to await the armed forces 
of England. But McQueen and Francis chaffed at this delay. 
They wanted not to fall upon the Americans in honest battle 
but to organize the Indians and fall upon the settlers as the 
Natchez Indians had planned in 1729, to fall upon them, 
when they but partly accomplished the idea at Fort Rosalie. 

In order to arouse the whites to action Peter McQueen or- 
dered his warriors to watch the Federal Road for the mail 
riders; to seize and beat them, and rob them, and to do in 
the same manner any soul travelling the Federal Road friend- 
ly to the whites. 

When Sam McNac turned spy he visited the prophet Fran- 
cis and expressed regrets at leaving his family and going with 
the Americans and declared it was his intention to join the 
war party, whereupon Francis revealed the Red Stick’s plans 
which were dreadful in the extreme. First, they were to kill 
six of the most important Indian Chiefs who had refused to 
join the hostiles. These Chiefs were Big Warrior, Spoke 
Kange, William McIntosh, the Mad Dragon’s Son, Tallassee 
Fixico and the little Prince. After the death of these trai- 
tors the Indians were to unite on the grand plan originated 


92 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


by Tecumseh (now dead) and exterminate the Americans 
from the Lakes to the Gulf. 

“What does Weatherford say to such action?” asked Mc- 
Nac of the prophet. 

“Weatherford opposes us,” he said, “he has ever counciled 
to await for England to send her army against the Ameri- 
cans, but England is too slow, we fain would go to action 
now.” 

The appearance of the scouting party, Dale, Smith and Aus- 
tin made Francis drive the silver spurs into his horse’s flanks 
and dash away. No sooner had he gone than McNac’s face 
underwent a sudden transformation and he could scarce re- 
strain himself from rushing into the arms of the white men 
with the fearful disclosure of the Indian’s plots. 

On July 10th, a pack-horse train, bound for Pensacola, 
headed by McQueen and Francis, opened the Red Stick war 
by beating everybody along the way who could not take the 
war talk. The train was going to Pensacola for arms and 
ammunition to arm the warriors for their work of massacre. 
These Chiefs had grown weary waiting for the English army 
and for the Red Eagle to lead them against the hated Pale- 
faces. 

Stopping at the house of the Government interpreter, Mc- 
Queen entered the house and called for Curnell’s who had 
taken to the woods at sight of the savages. 

“If the d d coward has hid,” said McQueen to Mrs. Cur- 

nells, at the same time snatching the comb from her hair, 
“I will take you along with me for company.” In vain she 
pleaded with them to be allowed to stay in her home, and re- 
fused to accompany them. But they dragged her to a horse 
and placed her on it and in Pensacola traded her for a pair 
of blankets. 

Tandy Walker speeding his horse along quiet ways brought 
to Fort Stephens the startling news that “a British fleet was 
seen off the coast, from which supplies, arms, ammunition 
and Indian emissaries were sent to Pensacola and other Span- 
ish ports in Florida.” In vain the settlers had petitioned gov- 
ernment for an army to meet the Indians. Every hour the 
situation was growing more desperate. 

These white people were the most defenceless people on 
earth. Every thing foreboded their extermination. Knowing 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


93 


of the gathering of the warriors under McQueen, and Fran- 
cis, in desperaton the Bigby people implored Colonel Caller 
to lead them to meet the armed warriors on their return from 
Pensacola. The object of the expedition was to meet the 
Indians in battle and by victory on the part of the whites 
frighten the Red Sticks out of conceit of war. With this 
idea in view Colonel Caller and his volunteers took up a 
southeastern line of march that led them to the cow-pens 
of David Tait, where they were reinforced by a company from 
Lake Tensaw, and Little River, under command of Dixon 
Bailey, of Auttose. Bailey was a half-breed Muscogee who 
had been educated at Philadelphia. His courage and skill 
as a leader made him eagerly sought for by both parties. In 
their boyhood days he and Weatherford were much together 
and Bailey knew the powerful strength of the Red Eagle’s 
character and had mightily sought to win him to the Ameri- 
can side. 

At the Wolf Pen, Caller and Bailey were joined by two 
companies from St. Stephens under command of Captains 
Heard and Patrick May, and later by a company under brave 
Sam Dale. 

These men were mounted upon good frontier horses with 
rifles and shot guns. They wore grey home spun jeans made 
in the hunting shirt fashion. Reno Brown’s boy, from Ten- 
saw, a lad of fourteen years was drummer and Otis Kent’s 
boys were fifers. A number of the volunteers were youths 
in their teens but they were first class marksmen, “with gun 
and dog they’d early learned to bag the quail and drop the 
flying deer.” 

On the morning of July 27th the wolf-trail led the little 
army to the main route leading to Pensacola, and at 11 A. M. 
a scouting party brought the news that McQueen and his 
warriors were only a few miles in advance. Immediately 
the command was thrown into three divisions, Captain Smoot 
in front of the right, Captain Bailey in front of the center, 
and Captain Dale in front of the left. Their plan was to at- 
tack the Indians by surprise. They found them on a small 
peninsula formed by the windings of Burnt Corn Creek, eat- 
ing their dinner. The party charged upon them. The In- 
dians although surprised immediately seized their guns and 
repelled the assault, but the determined bravery of the at- 


94 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


tacking party drove them into the creek. For stronger po- 
sition Colonel Caller ordered his men back to the high-lands ; 
the order was misunderstood by the men in the rear who 
supposed the men in front were ordered to retreat and seizing 
the Indians’ pack-horses they fled. In vain the officers en- 
deavored to rally them. The Indians saw McQueen clap his 
hand to his mouth and sound the war-whoop to rally. With 
exulting yells they turned and rushed upon the eighty Ameri- 
cans seeking the high-lands. Bravely these men fought ex- 
posed to galling fire in open woods. 

Dale was shot in the breast, the ball coming out at his 
back he continued to fight until overwhelming forces pressed 
them back in the tracks of their flying comrades. After this re- 
treat Patric May, Ambrose, Miles and Girard Creagh were 
still fighting on one side of the peninsula, keeping at bay 
the Chiefs, Mad Dog, Double Head and Ocheoce who were 
concealed in the canes blocking the way of the men to their 
comrades and shutting off their escape. 

At last resolved on retreat the three men made a dash for 
their horses, when a bullet from Ocheoce’s hand brought 
Creagh to the ground. 

“For God’s sake, don’t leave me May !” he cried. 

Instantly May lifted him in his arms, bore him to his horse, 
and placed him in his saddle; wth Miles holding the bridle 
reins, fighting the savages off at the same time. In rapid 
retreat they reached the top of the hill and looking back saw 
the savages scalping the slain on the battle field. 

This battle of Burnt Corn Creek was the first of the thirty 
battles fought between the Indians and the Americans in the 
Red Stick war. Caller’s command never got together again 
but mustered themselves out of service. 

After the battle of Burnt Corn the chiefs and warriors 
gathered in numbers at their capitol, Tookabatcha upon the 
Tallapoosa, and Weatherford came to the council. He was 
standing near the door of the great hall fitting an arrow to 
his bow when McQueen came up. 

“Greetings Weatherford.” 

“Greetings, McQueen.” 

The half-breed of Tallassee saw that his chieftain’s eyes 
scintillated and burned as he looked into them, and he knew 
the forces, he and Thelma Wolfe had planned, were at work. 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


95 


From him they had removed Lilia Beasley, they had invaded 
his home, and removed his spy, and together he and Thelma 
Wolfe had brought about the battle that was represented to 
Weatherford as a wanton attack on his warriors, by Ameri- 
can volunteers, while they were peacefully eating their dinner 
on the banks of Burnt Corn Creek. 

Manawa was more noble than any Chief of the hostiles and 
had been friend to both parties until the above described bat- 
tle. When the council opened Manawa was first to speak 
and both friend and foe alike trusted his noble qualities. In 
his talk he said, “This great tide of white men coming out 
of the east are joining their camp-fires while our tribes are 
dividing in a civil war. If as enemies we destroy each other 
the white civilization will claim the remnant left for slaves.” 
With this short talk he turned to Weatherford and asked in 
behalf of his nation if he had decided to renounce his people 
or to lead them into battle against their foes. 

In Weatherford’s most trying moments, in his passionate 
outburst, in his most violent acts he bore himself in a way that 
even his enemies felt his impress. In the throe of the passion 
surging in his heart over the thought that the Americans as 
individuals and as a nation had invaded his life and his coun- 
try, destroying the peace of both he was calm and graceful 
and his genius played on the emotions of his hearers until 
they thrilled in rapture. 

He said, “That our braves were murdered at Burnt Corn 
Creek was the first clear call for me ; we will go into battle 
and avenge them.” Their souls in haggard passion had long- 
ed for this hour. 

Never was speaker given more attention than that sea of 
red faces gave to Weatherford. His address was matchless 
in eloquence and logic. First he tore to fragments every 
treaty existing between the Indians and the Federal Gov- 
ernment. Then he showed that the question at stake was 
life or death to the Muscogee. 


In Mims they felt not the shadow of death that was creep- 
ing nearer and nearer. 

When the half-bloods whose homes had been sentenced, 
dropped down the Alabama in their boats and secreted them- 


96 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


selves and families in the swamps of Tensaw, Doctor Holmes, 
knowing the many dangers they were exposed to, invited 
them to join the Tensaw people in building a fort. Samuel 
Mims’ high uncultured glade that sloped towards the Lake 
was selected as ground for the stockade. The old Mims’ 
house with spacious rooms occupied the center of the square 
consisting of one acre of ground and each new cabin was built 
close to it where each family brought in their own supplies 
and lived to themselves. For palisade pickets were driven 
of timber with port-holes three and a half feet from the 
ground. At the southwest corner was a block house that 
was nearest the dwellings occupied by the negroes on the out- 
side of the fort with their potato patches and bee-gums. A 
stretch of woods lay between the palisade and the Lake, and 
great trees and under-brush grew in the deep ravines so near. 
The gallant Dixon Bailey was chosen as Captain of the fort, 
but very soon General Claiborne sent a hundred and seventy- 
five volunteers, under command of Major Daniel Beasley, to 
Mims. 

After the arrival of the soldiers flat boats were ever bear- 
ing refugees to the fort and new cabins went up and all felt 
safe and secure from Indian attack. The bravery of Beasley 
was in itself a magnate for Mims, as was Dixon Bailey ; both 
renowned for skill and courage in past conflicts with Indians 
and wild beasts. It never occurred to these people that time 
and revels had weakened the White Wolf until he was not 
the man of the past. When urged by Dixon Bailey to 
strengthen the picketing, build new block-houses and drill 
his men he laughed and said, “When the danger comes we’ll 
meet it sword in hand ; ’till then we’ll eat, drink and be mer- 
ry.” From then the inmates of Mims became inactive as to 
danger, the old men drank and played cards while the young 
men danced and flirted with the girls, and little children played 
in happy glee and piled up sand beds close to the open gates. 
Time had left no scars on Jane Mims’ face and she was just 
as ready to laugh as she was the night she and the Steadham 
boys had gone to Fort Stoddard to see Dan Johnson and Bes- 
sie Linder married. The Steadhams and Reno Brown and 
Otis Kent were all three happy in their families’ security (as 
they supposed) and with the rest gave themselves up to pleas- 
ure. 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


97 


A Creole band of musicians was ordered up from Mobile 
and one day when General Claiborne came to the fort, revelry 
was at its height. In alarm he saw the danger and sternly 
reprimanded the officers, and ordered block-houses built and 
the fort enlarged by sixty feet. In the annex the Creole band 
placed their tents and the officers their baggage and the gay 
time went on. So inured to pleasure had the gay people be- 
come that like the mockers of Lowrenza Dow at St. Steph- 
ens, they laughed to scorn a serious word or thought. 

After visiting Fort Mims General Claiborne visited Forts 
Sinquifield, Madison and St. Stephens, and from the latter 
place he went to headquarters at Fort Stoddard. He found 
all these places with the exception of Fort Mims prepared to 
meet the enemy. At Fort Sinquifield the fort was crowded 
to overflowing and Abner James’ family with Ransom Kim- 
bells returned from the place declaring they preferred to take 
their chances at the plantation than the discomforts of a fort. 
At Fort Madison every precaution was taken. On a pinnacle 
above the fort was suspended at night a great light of pine 
wood and pitch that shed its light far out beyond its palisade. 
Day and night armed pickets of keen eyes and ears were ever 
on the watch for the approach of the enemy. Around the 
heavy palisade of pine trees fifteen feet high, well fixed with 
port holes, an immense ditch was dug as a trap for the red- 
skins. The citizens at Fort Madison had enrolled themselves 
under Captains Evan Austill and Sam Dale. The latter was 
still pale from the desperate wound received at Burnt Corn 
Creek. When General Claiborne arrived at St. Stephens he 
found Mr. Gaines going out to attend a council held by the 
Choctaws. .The General went out to the council ground with 
the Factor where over five thousand Choctaws were encamped 
and heard Pushmataha, Grand Chief of the fifty villages, make 
a talk full of persuasive eloquence to his people to scorn 
all the advances of England and Spain and to be true to the 
Americans. He said, “My people you knew Tecumseh was 
a bad man with a bad heart that craved to shed blood. He 
came down in the Chickasaw country with his prophets that 
together they might cast their spell upon the Chicasaws and 
teach them to hate the Americans but the Chickasaws let 
their arrows fly at them and with their buffalo tails they fled 
and galloped into our nation, but they did not turn our heads. 


98 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


The people at St. Stephens are our friends. The Muscogees 
intend to kill them. I shall join the St. Stephens people. If 
you have a mind to follow me I will lead you to glory and 
to victory.” 

“We will follow thee !” shouted the flat head warriors. 

When General Claiborne with Mr. Gaines was returning to 
St. Stephens from the encampment just as they passed the 
immense Choctaw mound, called Naunawyah, a band of Musco- 
gee Indians galloped by them at a furious rate, yet not so 
fast before General Claiborne said to the Factor, “there goes 
a spy,” seeing Thelma Wolfe in the lead, who had given her 
disguise of the Black Dwarf to the Tombigbee waters. 

“A spy?” asked Mr. Gaines. 

“Yes,” answered General Claiborne,. “it was the woman in 
front leading the band. 

“How do you know she is a spy?” 

“For many reasons ; she dogs my steps. I left her at Fort 
Mims, she is here and there and I who know so well the face 
of a spy have never been deceived. I have passed her on the 
streets of Mobile dressed as a boy, and she makes a beau- 
tiful boy.” 

“She is a very beautiful woman,” said Mr. Gaines. 

“Do you know her?” 

“Yes, I know her.” 

“Who is she?” 

“Thelma Wolfe.” 

“She is not all Indian?” 

“No, I reckon not,” said Mr. Gaines as if in doubt. 

“She shows the French, decidedly,” said General Claiborne. 

“She makes me think of an Arab woman,” said Mr. Gaines. 
***** 

One day up to Fort Mims a red-plumed Indian galloped 
and asked to deliver a message to the White Wolf’s daugh- 
ter. He was most indignantly refused by Major Beasley. The 
messenger talked with the children a while at the open gate 
where they builded toy forts of sand, then galloped off to- 
wards the ferry but stopped a moment for a word with a Mrs. 
Neale who lived outside the fort. And he slipped into the 
woman’s hand a note from Weatherford to Lilia Beasley. 

Late in the evening, when a screaming river crane with 
snow white wing drew the girl to the water’s edge to watch 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


99 


it take its bath the rudely scrawled note was thrust into her 
hand. There were those in the fort who knew ’twas best to 
always watch the White Wolf’s daughter and none knew it 
better than the scout, Ike Heaton, and so Lilia had scarce 
concealed the note in her sleeve when she saw coming to- 
wards her the yellow-haired scout. 

“I have come to see the crane take its bath,” she said. 

“Yes,” he answered, and dropped down on the sand and 
watched the crane flap the water and dive. She knew he was 
watching her, although he seemed never to look at her, but 
kept his eyes upon the crane. To throw him off the scent she 
made believe ’twas nice to have him there and dropped herself 
on the grass and talked of the dance for the night when she 
was to dance with Jack Weatherford, and Captains Batchelor 
and Middleton. 

“Do you not think it strange,” he said to her, “that brothers 
should be so divided?” 

“How do you mean?” she said. 

“Did you not know,” he said, “that Weatherford is silently 
creeping down the Alabama with his forces to make an at- 
tack on Fort Glass, that he is in reality Grand Chief of War 
instead of Manawa? 

“No, I did not know,” she said, “1 will never believe it.” 

“General Claiborne fears that cunning Indian more than 
any man; he told me so.” 

“Father says General Ferdinand Claiborne may be distin- 
guished for fighting Indans in the northwest but that he is 
no judge of Indian character in the south. He is so alarmed 
always and were it not for General Flournoy he would at 
this time, plunge the country into war.” 

“Many a man in this panic stricken land is cursing Flour- 
noy for his folly in restraining General Claiborne,” said 
Heaton. 

Wearying of his watching her she said, “I’d like the crane’s 
wing, will you not go for my bow? It hangs just inside my 
father’s door. I am sure I can kill the bird, get the bow 
quickly or else the bird will go.” When Heaton rose and 
went towards her father’s cabin inside the fort she quickly 
read the words so rudely spelled and written and slipped again 
the note inside her sleeves. When she turned and saw the 
scout coming so quickly back and without her bow she flush- 


100 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


ed and frowned and asked him what he meant ! He said, “I 
sent Bailey’s boy, Tom, for the bow,” and coolly sat down 
again on the sand of the lake and looked at the crane as 
though the bird had cast a spell upon him. Directly, when the 
sound of a partridge whistling as if to its mate came to his 
ears he saw the White Wolf’s daughter grow silent and dis- 
turbed. 

To sit there with the scout she knew was dangerous, for 
impelled by jealous passion Weatherford calling to her to 
meet him might at any moment speed a bullet into the heart 
or brain of Heaton. Rising quickly she said, “I will go in, 
my father likes it not that I should dally outside the fort. 
Some evil-minded one has put it into his mind that some 
day when Weatherford has stolen me away and secreted me 
in the den he’s fixed for me that he will turn his warriors 
loose upon the land and not a Pale-face will escape to tell 
of all the things he’ll do.” 

The maiden was gone ere the bird called again its mate 
and Heaton saw through her strategy and followed quickly 
in her steps and cautioned her father to watch her well and 
told him of the partridge’s call. The old man swore in wrath 
’gainst Weatherford and called his daughter to him and never 
thinking that he was in his dotage he bade her fan him for 
’twas hot he said and he needed just to shut one eye before 
the supper time. 

It suited well Lilia Beasley’s scheme to sit there beside her 
father and fan him for well she knew he’d go to sleep though 
he never dreamed of doing such a thing but thought he’d lie 
there and make plans to capture Weatherford. Alas, for old 
age, scarce was the old man settled down upon his cot and 
closed his lids when his mouth flew open and his breath heavy 
with fumes of wiskey told how soon he’d be unconscious of 
his daughter’s flight. In a very little while she was gone and 
almost breathless she flew to the dense vines from which 
she’d heard the partridge call. 

“Lamochattee, Lamochattee,” she called softly. Like a 
tameless Arab King the Red Eagle approached her and pick- 
ing her up in his arms he clasped her to his wildly beating 
heart. “Lilia,” he cried, “there is no safety for thee here, fly 
with me !” 

“What is this?” she said. 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


101 


“There is no safety in yonder fort. A thousand warriors 
stand with battle axes ready to beat down its weak 
stockade, and when it falls no living- Pale-face will be spared.” 

“Weatherford, why didst thou do this?” 

“I did not do it. When I agreed to lead my warriors into 
battle they assumed that I would lead them into massacres 
and such horrors and flocked to the Eagle Standard in such a 
thirst for blood that I hoped to stay them in the cruel thing 
and made as though I’d lead them in it. And thus I sought to 
hold them off until the promised English came and then go 
into honest battle. But no, ‘tainted ! tainted ! with the ac- 
cursed blood of our enemies,’ the full-bloods cried, and swore 
they’d do this thing alone. That they would swoop on Mims 
and not a soul should live. I reasoned with the noblest and 
they agree that if I lead them they will spare the women and 
children, ’tis false ! too well I know the savage thirst for 
blood when once they see it flow, hell could be easier staid ! 
Oh, Lilia come with me !” 

“Go !” she said, “I would die a thousand deaths than do 
it!” 

“By Manitou the Red man’s God,” he shouted, “you go with 
me.” 

“I’ll go with you,” she said, “if now, with me, you turn 
your back on Mims and leave the warriors to the fight alone.” 

“Lamochattee a traitor to his nation ! Hell would not 
know how to punish such a crime !” 

She saw the wild look of the Eagle in his posture as he 
stooped towards her and she knew the wild bird was come 
for its prey. Like a deer under the smart of an arrow she 
bounded away. As the panther overtakes the deer he quickly 
had her in his arms. 

“Bang! Bang! Bang!” 

The fight was quick and fierce. ’Twas one against six, 
though ’twas only three would dare to shoot and then it was 
at the Red Eagle’s head they aimed. But when like a spirit 
Lilia Beasley had slipped into her father’s arms the guns of 
Heaton and the boys of the Creole band played a tattoo about 
the warrior’s form. ”Bah !” he tauntingly called as he glided 
into the woods, “ ’tis only the Eagle’s plume is touched.” 

Weatherford had gone but down the Lake a little ways 
when he signalled “Whip-poor-will!” and lo, a boat with 


102 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


muffled oars came swiftly towards him. Lowly he conversed 
with his boatman and then he entered the boat and was row- 
ed into the Alabama river and landed on the Witch’s Island. 

Following the path that led to Muna’s hut he rapped but 
slightly on the door which at his touch flew open. 

“I have waited long,” the Natchez woman said, “I was hun- 
gry for thy coming.” 

“I was detained,” he said. 

“With a wanton,” she said. 

“No, mother, but tell me what says the Master of Breath 
tonight ?” 

“Mine eyes this night have seen his mighty face.” 

“Ah !” 

“Strike quick, strike sure, spare none,” a vapor filled the 
hut and the woman crooned and moved her shadowy hands 
until the little lights began to creep up from the crevice in 
the ground and the man was spell-bound and took the vow 
to march on Mims ere tomorrow’s sun was set. 

The brazen effort of Weatherford to get Lilia Beasley out 
of the fort produced a different effect upon the refugees. 
Major Beasley said, “It has settled all doubts in my mind of 
an attack on Mims. For never will Weatherford allow his 
warriors to rush on the fort with Lilia inside.” “What is 
1 one squaw more or less to Weatherford?” Dixon Bailey asked 
of Heaton. But Beasley’s words sounded pleasantly to four- 
fifths of the inmates of the fort while to the remaining one- 
fifth they were the words of a fool, and the latter part re- 
solved to look no longer to the drunken old man for protec- 
tion but to turn to Dixon Bailey. After this division in the 
fort Dixon Bailey, at midnight, ordered Ike Heaton to go to 
Fort Stoddard and consult with General Claiborne. The 
scout found General Claiborne in a desperate strait. He was 
at Mount Vernon with the rear guard of his army, sustaining 
them chiefly by supplies raised by mortgages upon his own 
estate. Claiborne said to th‘e scout, “From the report of my 
spies I have seen all along that Weatherford was resorting 
to strategy; that he was concealing his warriors in caves, and 
dens, and ravines ; that the blow is going to come like light- 
ning out of a clear sky. Had I the power I would sound to 
arms and trail these Indians out of their hiding places, drive 
them out and disband them, and so I wrote to my Command- 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


103 


ing General. Here is his answer,” and General Claiborne 
drew forth a letter and read : ‘The Indians have not openly 
attacked the white settlements beyond their border, and until 
they do, I have no authority to permit the troops to invade the 
nation.’ And so we are forced to await an Indian attack !” 
exclaimed the brigadier-general of volunteers. “But,” he 
continued, “you are right about the danger of Mims ; I saw 
it when I was there and most sternly did I reprimand the of- 
ficers for most wanton neglect of duty. Beasley is a man 
of unsurpassed bravery ; and in his younger days, of indomi- 
table energy, but the once lithe body is heavy with age and 
intemperance and the once vigorous mind is weakened by 
these same forces and the time has come when he must be 
retired.” 

While Major Beasley was being discussed at Fort Stoddard, 
at Fort Mims, he looked very jaunty in a three-cornered cock- 
ed hat, and very soldier-like with long sword at his side. As 
he passed a group of girls on his way down the walk that 
led to the Lake and one of them said, “Oh, Major Beasley, 
you look so young!” He drew himself up and bowed and 
smiled and said, “My hair is white but my heart is light.” 
Just then two wild-eyed negroes dashed into the fort and 
yelled “Injuns! Injuns!” With a laugh the old Major turned 
to Captain Middleton and said, “Go will you, and find these 
Indians. 

Captain Middleton, with a detachment of horses, imme- 
diately went out in sarch of Indians but was unable to dis- 
cover any sign of the enemy. “They wuz naked, and painted 
and galloping band after band,” said the negroes when ques- 
tioned by Middleton on his return. “Their story is a sheer 
fabrication,” said Beasley to raise an excitement and the 
negroes deserve a flogging and shall have it.” 

“You won’t whip our nigger,” said Mr. Fletcher’s son, and 
darted off in the direction of his father’s cabin. In a minute 
the Fletcher lad was back and he said, “Pa’s cornin’ and he: 
says he’ll see you dead first.” 

So fierce was the quarrel between Major Beasley and Mr. 
Fletcher over whipping the negroes that the commandant 
ordered Mr. Fletcher, with his large family to leave the fort 
by ten o’clock the next day. 


104 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


After the quarrel subsided the crowd scattered. The sol- 
diers lay around on the ground in shady places ; some of the 
settlers went off to their plantations for supplies, while some 
of them played cards ; the girls and boys went to dancing 
and the children piled into pyramid beds of sand. 

It was nearly dinner time when the children’s mothers call- 
ed them in out of the heat and bade them wash their hands 
and faces for dinner. Directly the drum beat the soldiers 
and officers to dinner and they all went into the dining room 
save Major Beasley and Captains Jack, Batchelor and Mid- 
dleton. These were so absorbed in a game of cards they 
never noticed the call to dinner. 

“Whoop-ahahahahah-hoop !” 

Shrill as the cry of fire by night the war-hoop sounded. 
The Indian line, led by Peter McQueen from out the deep 
dark ravines was within thirty yards of the outer gates of 
the fort before their approach was discovered. With panther 
bounds the officers from the card table met the savages with 
swords in hand and the deadly strife was on. Man after man 
fell but a part of the savages got inside the extra picketing 
ordered by General Claiborne, and occupied the tents of the 
musicians and the officers’ baggage, before soldiers enough 
had gathered to keep them back. But now a hail storm of 
bullets from the port-holes occupied by Captain Bailey’s com- 
pany was mowing the outside Indians down, and soldiers 
with swords and bayonets were making the savage death rate 
count inside. So fiercely did the white men fight that the 
Indians were driven out of the extra picketing and the gates 
were shut. With superhuman strength Major Beasley rose 
out of his blood and shut the gates, then fell again covered 
with wounds. The Indians thus repelled constituted an ad- 
vance guard. The men now flew to their posts. Captain 
Middleton was in charge of the eastern section. Captain 
Jack, with a company of riflemen, defended the south wing. 
Lieutenant Randon fought from the guard house, on the west, 
while Captain Bailey repulsed the enemy, who had hurled 
itself in greatest numbers against him, on the northern line. 
Just as the spikes were driven down to fasten the gates the 
shrill war-cry of Weatherford was heard; answered by the 
screams of a thousand warriors. On they came, mounted on 
horses and bearing the Eagle Standard. Weatherford was 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


105 


mounted on a coal black horse sired by Truxton from Andrew 
Jackson’s stable. He led the army of naked, throbbing-, paint- 
ed savages. With whoop and yell, these demons galloped 
their horses round and round the fort, firing at every yell. 
While the men fought and mothers gathered their children 
inside the cabin walls the girls mounted the roofs of the houses 
and swept back the lighted arrows that were raining down. 
For three solid hours the fight went on, then Weatherford 
ordered his warriors to scale the palisade. But the port 
holes were dealing out death and the savages recoiled. “To 
the palisade with battle axes !” shouted Weatherford, then 
cheered the warriors on. They cut the palisade ! Oh, deadly 
strife ! Above it all the voice of Captain Bailey cried, “For 
God’s sake kill Weatherford!” 

In answer to the appeal the Red Eagle lifted himself high 
in saddle and screamed, “Remember Chieftains wild Burnt 
Corn !” 

Every soul inside the fort who could shoot a gun or strike 
a blow was now engaged in the fight. 

It is said a scene now presented itself almost without a 
parallel in the annals of Indian warfare. 

Weatherford, when the palisade fell, implored his warriors 
to spare the women and children but without avail. 

Only seventeen escaped from the garrison. 

Hester, a negro woman, paddled to Fort Stoddard that 
night in a canoe and was the first to give the news to General 
Claiborne of the awful massacre. 

It was Weatherford’s policy to keep the settlers every 
where in a panic ; making them believe that the next mo- 
ment he, would appear at their fort. In that way he prevent- 
ed the concentration of his enemies. When he and his war- 
riors were stealing down to Fort Mims along the south bank 
of the Alabama river, Francis and his warriors were march- 
ing down the west bank of the river to attack Fort Sinque- 
field, a fort that was in the fork of the Alabama and the Tom- 
bigbee rivers. It will be remembered that the Kimbells and 
the James families left this fort on account of its crowded 
condition, and repaired to the house of Kimbell two miles 
from the fort. In passing this place to Fort Sinquefield Fran- 
cis and his Indians suddenly surrounded the house and with 
tomahawk and Scalping knife murdered both families and 


106 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


sold their scalps to British agents at Pensacola for $5.00 a 
scalp. 

It was when the dead were carried to Fort Sinquefield for 
Burial that Francis thought to steal upon the fort. It was 
when the funeral ceremonies were closing and all the garri- 
son were engaged therein that the prophet suddenly rushed 
upon them. The new graves lay only fifty yards from the 
gates of the fort and at sight of the savages charging down 
a hill towards them the men snatched up the children and 
dashed into the open gates, but by the exulting yells of the 
warriors the men knew that the Indians had baffled them. 
Turning to know the meaning of their exultation, to the 
men’s horror, they saw the enemy had headed off ten of the 
girls who were at the spring. It was a horrible sight. The 
whole Indian force centered on keeping the girls from the 
fort, and to kill the men who dared to come to their aid. 
The girls seeing this made a dash for the woods. The Indians 
perceived with great delight that the helpless girls were at 
their mercy and a party of them started on the chase while 
a large force guarded the gates to enter and massacre the 
refugees should the gates be opened. 

Just at that moment Ike Heaton, who was returning from 
Fort Stoddard, with his long whip and a large pack of hounds, 
he was taking to Fort Mims, sixty in number, dashed upon 
the scene. He raised the long whip, gave a most tremendous 
crack, yelled, and with the well trained dogs charged upon 
the Indians. Such was the fury of the dogs that they tore 
the flesh from the legs and backs of the Indians and threw 
them into wild disorder. Lashing the Indians with the long 
cow hide whip he drove them on, cheering the dogs. During 
the confusion the girls in wildest haste dashed into the open 
gates, all but one, she was overtaken and scalped. Heaton’s 
coat was riddled with bullets and his horse fell under him 
from a wound but rose again and followed his heroic master 
into the fort. When the Indians succeeded in beating off the 
dogs they turned in baffled rage to attack the fort, but in the 
meantime the men had secured their guns and very soon the 
savages recoiled from the flame of fire that emptied itself 
from the port-holes. 

There was no denying an Indian war now. The scalp hunt 
was on, and in earnest. With haggard faces the settlers 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


107 


lined up straight, and with shot gun and rifle trailed the ban- 
dit along the blood-stained paths of the winding rivers. And 
long-legged, bare-footed boys, who knew how to hit the 
mark, followed in their wake. 

Day and night the woods resounded with the war-whoop. 
“Whoop-ahahahahah-whoop !” And the savage foe would 
dash down upon a company of white men who were trailing 
them, fight furiously a little while then dash into the woods, 
consult a moment, then wheel their horses and renew the 
attack, or join a larger band and rush upon a fort. After 
which they would retire to their lodges to indulge in eating 
and sleeping and debauch. 


When it was positively known that Weatherford headed 
the war party, for a while, it was thought that no power on 
earth could save the South from savage extermination. In 
every man’s heart there had been a hope that Weatherford 
would remain neutral and with him, joining neither party, 
would remain the main body of Indians that in time roving 
murderous bands would retire and confidence would be es- 
tablished between the races. The death knell of that hope 
had sounded when “the key and corner stone of the great 
Muscogee Confederacy” pealed forth the war-cry. From 
fort to fort men rode, driving in cattle and providing pro- 
visions. To have seen them riding at desperate speed with 
pack of hounds, pistols in holsters and knives in their belts 
one would have supposed them to be desperadoes. But they 
were not. They were heroes. 

The massacre at Fort Mims produced everywhere the pro- 
foundest sympathy. With one voice it was decreed that the . 
entire resources of the South should be hurled upon the 
savage foe, to avenge the massacre, and to deliver the south- 
ern country from the Red-man’s hand. Over the hills from 
Tennessee, across the valleys of the east and west, the Pale- 
faces came for revenge of their blood. The ring of the rifle 
with boom of cannon was heard. Drum beats took the place 
of the whoop, and the breath of the bugle heralded the ban- 
quet of death. 

When panting messenger had dashed into The Hermitage, 
and told the story of Fort Mims, Andrew Jackson, with 


108 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


wounded arm, sprang from his couch and cried, “The burst 
of a nation’s grief has come to me.” 

A mass meeting assembled at Nashville, and with one voice, 
nominated Jackson commander-in-chief of the troops of the 
state. Ten days after the Tennessee legislature voted two 
hundred thousand dollars towards carrying on the war. 

Jackson, pale and weak, with his arm in a sling addressed 
the soldiers in Nashville. “We must hasten,” he said, “to 
these women and children who are calling to us. Their fair 
land has been desolated. We will cut our way over the moun- 
tains, and swim the deep rolling rivers to reach them. ‘Re- 
venge! Revenge!’ they cry to us. Long shall Weatherford 
remember Mims in bitterness and tears.” 

Jackson was in a hurry. September 26th, he and Colonel 
John Coffee with a small army that gathered at every cross- 
roads marched into the enemy’s country. Jackson had sup- 
posed that the victorious Weatherford would march upon 
Mobile, but on the 7th of October the arrival of an express 
at Fort Strother with letter from General Claiborne con- 
veyed the intelligence to Jackson that instead of marching 
upon Mobile, as was supposed, the Indians were marching 
northward in two columns. The brow of Jackson furrowed 
when he read General Claiborne’s letter. “Why is this?” 
he asked of Colonel Coffee, “why is this? With Mobile in 
his grasp why does Weatherford turn like a snake in the 
dark and trail to meet us?” 

“I cannot read the puzzle,” answered Colonel Coffee. 

*It was a letter written to the Chiefs, by Manxique, the 
Spanish Governor of Florida, that turned the Indians 
back from their attack on Mobile. The letter ran thus : 
“Gentlemen: I received the letter that you wrote me in 
the month of August, by which, and with great satisfaction, 

I was informed of the advantages which your brave warriors 
obtained over your enemies. I represented, as I promised 
you, to the Captain-General of the Havana, the request which, 
the last time I took you by the hand, you made me of arms 
and ammunitions; but until now I cannot yet have an an- 
swer. But I am in hopes that he will send me the effects 
which I requested, and as soon as I receive them I shall in- 
form you. I am very thankful for your generous offers to 


! See “Red Eagle,” by Eggleston. 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


109 


procure for me the provisions and warriors necessary in order 
to take the port of Mobile, and you ask me at the same time if 
we have given up Mobile to the Americans : to which I an- 
swer, for the present I cannot profit of your generous ofTer, 
not being at war with the Americans, who did not take Mo- 
bile by force, since they purchased it from the miserable of- 
ficer, destitue of honor, who commanded there, and delivered 
it without authority. By which reasons the sale % and delivery 
of that place is entirely void and null, and I hope the Ameri- 
cans will restore it again to us, because nobody can dispose 
of a thing that is not his own property ; in consequence of 
which the Spaniards have not lost their right to it. And I 
hope you will not put in execution the project you tell me of, 
to burn the town since these houses and properties do not 
belong to the Americans, but to true Spaniards. To the bear- 
ers of your letter I have ordered some small presents to be. 
given, and I remain forever your good father and friend. 

Manxique.. 

While Weatherford and his warriors wanted to burn Mo-, 
bile it was necessary to ask the Spanish Governor’s permis- 
sion to do it. It was next day when he met in council with 
the Chiefs that the letter was written to Manxique telling of, 
the victory of Fort Mims and of the intent of attack on Mo- 
bile. It was a blow to Weatherford’s military plans to be 
turned back from Mobile by the Spaniards. To murder the 
inhabitants and sack Mobile meant much to his blood-thirsty 
warriors. Many of the Chiefs declared that if they were to 
be subject to Spanish orders they’d as well turn back tp> 
American rule. To the neighboring tribes it proved how 
useless it would be to drive out American tyrants when there 
were the Spaniards more intolerant by nature and conditions 
than ever the Americans. So the long cherished dream of' 
the dead Shawnee, Tecumseh, was never to be realized. From 
this time Weatherford lost ground with the Cherokees, and 
Choctaws, and companies from both tribes fell into American 
line. So furious at this time was the strife of war in the 
region that lay between the Alabama and Tombigbee rivers 
that General Flournoy now thoroughly awake to Indian char- 
acter ordered General Claiborne with his Mississippians “to. 
drive the Indians from the frontier, to kill, burn and destroy 


no 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


all their negro’s horses, cattle and other property that can- 
not conveniently be brought to the forts.” Day and night 
the Red-skins were prowling with scalping knife and torch. 
Woe to the boy driving home the cows at night : woe to the 
little child outside a palisade. 

Jackson was wild to meet the Indians in battle but the 
Georgians were nearer the seat of war and were the first to 
meet them in greater numbers, though the Tennesseeans and 
the Muscogees had met in battle at Tallasahatche and at Tal- 
ladega. 

In November the troops from Georgia crossed the Chat- 
tahoochee river and piloted by the Jew trader, Abram Mor- 
decai, advanced near the Tallapoosa to attack the enemy who 
were assembled in great numbers at the town of Auttose. 
The troops from Georgia were under command of General 
John Floyd, whose army consisted of nine hundred and fifty 
militiamen and four hundred friendly Indians, the latter un- 
der command of the Chiefs, William McIntosh and Mad Dra- 
gon’s Son. 

On the morning of the twenty-ninth of November, just 
as the daylight crept into the valley the Georgians marched 
upon Auttose and the battle opened at sunrise. The savages 
met the invaders with the boldest determination, and it seem- 
ed the Snake Tribes could win the battle so savagely did 
they rush upon their foes. A body of Indians coming upon 
the rear of Floyd’s left flank forced him to send three com- 
panies of infantry and two dragoons to attack them while he, 
reinforced by Chiefs McIntosh and Mad Dragon’s Son, threw 
himself into battle with a more determined ferocity. In the 
meantime Captain Thomas was bringing forward the artil- 
lery. A thing regarded by these savages with superstitious 
horror, and it turned the tide of battle which had been go- 
ing against the whites. Its rapid discharges threw the In- 
dians into sudden panic. When Major Freeman with his 
squadron of cavalry saw them waver he charged them and 
broke their lines. 

So closely were they pressed by the infantry and by the 
Tookabatchas under the Mad Dragon’s Son that they were 
driven into the Tallapoosa river. At nine o’clock the town 
was in flames and the Georgians had won the battle. Four 
hundred buildings of the fine Indian architecture, filled with 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


111 


valuable articles, were burned and among the dead lay the 
Miccos of Tallassee and Auttose. Great heroism was dis- 
played by the Georgians in this battle, and great bravery was 
shown by the Auttoses and while the latter had lost the 
battle they were not whipped and already the red warriors 
were assembling their forces and attacking Floyd’s rear. 
The spies reported to the wounded Floyd that warriors from 
the Hickory Ground, Coosawda, and Autauga were flocking 
to the assistance of the Auttoses. The base of supplies was 
sixty miles away, on the Chattahoochee, and notwithstanding 
the victory the prospect was perilous. When the wounded 
were cared for and the dead buried the Georgians were or- 
dered back to Fort Mitchel upon the Chattahoochee. 


When Captain Sam Dale recovered from his wounds he ob- 
tained permission from Colonel Carson of Fort Madison to. 
drive the hostiles from the fork of the Alabama and Tom- 
bigbee rivers. His force consisted of forty militiamen under 
Lieutenant Creagh, and thirty Mississippi volunteers under 
Lieutenant Lemuel P. Montgomery. Among the militiamen 
was Jim Smith and Jere Austill. One cold November morn- 
ing when Dale and the two last named men were camped upon; 
the Alabama, cooking their breakfast of beef and sweet po- 
tatoes, their attention was called to a large canoe gliding 
down the river containing a Chief, and ten warriors. They 
were all naked, painted and wore their war bonnets. Their 
red clubs lay across their laps and they presented a striking 
picture. The three scouts immediately stole down to the 
ferry landing and placed themselves in a small canoe there 
and directed Caesar, the negro ferryman, to place his boat 
side by side with that of the warriors. In the mean time- 
two of the warriors sprang from the big boat to go ashore. 
The nine left in the canoe calmly awaited the coming of the- 
bold little craft. When within twenty yards of the enemy 
the three Americans rose to give them a broadside; but 
Smith’s gun alone was discharged, the priming having be- 
come damp in the other two guns. When the small boat 
touched the large canoe, Austill, who was in the prow, re- 
ceived the first brunt of the battle, the Chief bringing his 
club down heavily upon Austell’s head. Dale and Smith sprang 


112 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


to his rescue and the Chief lay dead. In a moment Austill 
was on his feet and engaged with a second warrior, and then 
with a third, both of whom he despatched with the butt of 
his rifle. In the meantime Smith had succeeded in killng 
two warriors. Caesar had the canoes close together and 
held them with a mighty grasp, so the men maintained a 
firm footing by keeping their feet in both canoes and mowed 
down the remaining savages. The only words spoken during 
the fight was by the Chief when he recognized Dale and ex- 
claimed, “Now for it, Big Sam !” and the request of Caesar 
for Dale to make use of his bayonet and musket. 

Fort Claiborne was built in November and proved a bless- 
ing to the scantily clothed soldiers. It was a strong stock- 
ade, two hundred feet square, defended by three block-houses 
and a half moon battery which commanded the Alabama. 
The garrison was a motley one. It consisted of three hun- 
dred volunteers from Mississippi, a small dragoon force, a 
small force of militiamen and Chief Pushmataha with a com- 
pany of Choctaw warriors. Later the garrison was rein- 
forced by the Third Regiment of the United States Infantry 
under command of Colonel Russell. The activity of General 
Claiborne was most stimulating to the whites and his alert- 
ness and devotion to duty made him a fine example to other 
forts. In every way he was an inspiration. The time was 
now come for him, whose task it was, to find and to fight 
Weatherford. When the powers of England and Spain com- 
bined to turn Weatherford back from his attack on Mobile 
he divided his forces to meet the overwhelming armies com- 
ing against him. Hs worst fears were realized when he saw 
how hard it was to control his savage army. After each 
battle the warriors wanted to drift into small roving bands, 
intending to concentrate again when some special occasion 
offered. This was Indian practice, and favored by the Chiefs 
at large. But Weatherford and a few of the most intelligent 
Indians bitterly opposed such action. No persuasion, no 
threats, could induce the warriors not to drop out after each 
battle and return to their lodges. To control this Weather- 
ford established strong posts at certain strategic points as 
a refuge for the warriors and their families. Holy Ground 
upon the Alabama, and Emucfau upon the Tallapoosa were 
places selected by Weatherford in pursuance, of this policy. 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


113 


From these posts the warriors were to fight advancing col- 
umns of troops. 

Many of these savages had no other arms than bows and 
war clubs, yet so determinedly did they resist attack that 
the white columns with musket and cannon were sometimes 
forced to retreat. 

Around these strongholds breast works were thrown up, 
and trenches dug. It was there they stored the plunder 
brought in by thieving raiders from the homes of the settlers 
who had left all to flee into forts for their lives. There was 
no end of provisions in these places. 

At Fort Strother, and at Ten Islands, in the Coosa, where 
Jackson’s men were starving, at Weatherford’s strongholds, 
pots and caldrons steamed ever with savory messes. An- 
other one of Weatherford’s policies was to surround himself 
with mystery. He would appear in battle against Jackson’s 
forces today, and tomorrow he would lead his warriors against 
an army that was far to the south. Then, lo ! he would throw 
the Georgians into a panic, upon the Chattahoochie. 

In the newly established place, called the Holy Ground, the 
town was laid ofif according to Indian fashion. It had its 
Council House, and large square where the squaws assembled 
after the labors of the day to torture the prisoners, and to 
dance. In groups, there were two hundred houses, with wig- 
wams in clusters. The site of the town overlooked the river 
from a high bluff, and marshes and deep ravines circled 
around it to the river. The prophets had enchanted the place 
and that was why it was called the Holy Ground. Francis 
and the prophet Sin stood on the high bluff night and day 
and danced and declared to the savages that the Master of 
Breath had said that the white man’s bullet would split on 
the red man’s body without so much as making a blister, and 
that the Quagmires would swallow up the whites who dared 
set foot on Holy Ground. Historians disagree as to Weath- 
erford’s being under the spell of the prophets, but facts are 
very plain that he was, more or less, for superstition was 
born and bred in Weatherford. The Holy Ground lay one 
hundred miles in a northeastwardly direction from Fort Clai- 
borne. The places were on the same river but the windings 
of the Alabama with its marshes and its immense bluffs made 
it impossible for an army to follow. No road, nor trail led 


114 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


from Fort Claiborne to the Holy Ground. The spies had 
found the place and reported it to General Claiborne and 
they told him that Weatherford was there; that the Holy 
Ground was the Red Eagle’s headquarters. Immediately the 
Mississippians took up the line of march for the Indian seat 
of war. The little army had swelled to a thousand — the long- 
legged, bare-footed boys had helped to swell the number. It 
was December and their bleeding heels told a sad story of 
want but their haggard faces told a story of woe that was 
harder to bear than want. In their ears still rang the shriek 
and scream of murdered relatives and friends. Heart to heart 
those boys marched along, never again to know their youth 
as they had known it before. 

Twenty miles south of the Holy Ground General Claiborne 
built a strong stockade, and placed within his sick, his sup- 
ply wagons, his artillery, and his baggage with a garrison of 
a hundred men and marched on to the enchanted town of 
much corn, sweet potatoes, beans, pumpkins, smoked pork 
and bear’s hams, nut oil stored in barrels and kegs of taffai. 
It was the night of the 22d of December that Weatherford 
was carefully guiding his grey over the quagmires and marsh- 
es, dashed off to the Holy Ground, and quickly sought the 
council house. In silent thought they awaited his coming. 

“Why rings the signal at this hour?” he asked. 

“Have the spies brought word or sign of enemies?” 

“Yes, mighty chieftain,” answered Chief Manawa, “Clai- 
born with his army will attack us here ere the dawn star shall 
arise.” 

“Bold fool; does he dare intrude into this consecrated place? 
By Manitou this shall be his rashest deed !” 

“This is the Master’s chosen land,” said Francis. 

“No Pale-face ere shall tread this holy dust,” said prophet 
Sin. 

“Go, warriors, shout the battle cry!” cried Weatherford. 

From everv throat there pealed the cry, “Ho! Muscoeee ! 
Ho! Ho!” 

When the Chiefs had gone to rouse the warriors to deeds, 
and sound the battle-cry and Weatherford stood alone, he 
felt a slight touch on his arm, and close beside him was the 
wild, weird face of Thelma Wolfe. 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


115 


“Is it he?” the Red Eagle answered quickly, without word 
from her. 

“Yes,” she answered. 

“Have you seen him?” 

“Yes,” she said, “it is the White Wolf that has led Clai- 
borne to this holy ground.” 

“He was the ghostly creature then I saw, with hellish eyes 
staring into mine that so unmanned me and all but took my 
breath away,” said Weatherford. 

“He saw me,” she said, “and knew me, and called me ‘spy’ 
and said he’d come to avenge his daughter’s death.” 

“Ah !” said the Chieftain with curious face. Then Thelma 
Wolfe, at sight of the half-breed of Tallassee coming towards 
them silently glided away. 

The early dawn saw three columns of men advancing to- 
wards the Holy Ground. General Claiborne leading the cen- 
ter in person. Boldly the savages advanced and made the 
first attack by rushing upon the right column under Colonel 
Carson. Both parties were fighting desperately when all of 
a sudden the Indians went into a panic, then wildly retreated. 
It was the death of the prophet Sin, dancing upon the bluff, 
that caused it. When the wild cry went up that the prophet 
was slain by a bullet from the white man’s hand there was 
no stopping the stampede. Weatherford who led the attack, 
heard the cry and tried to drown it. Amidst the scream of 
shot and shell the Chieftain pealed forth his kingly battle 
cry. The bravest of his warriors circled around him. Again 
and again Weatherford tried to rally his army but in vain. 
Raising himself high in his saddle he shouted a taunt to 
his flying warriors. 

Driving his spurs into his horse he dashed forward and 
cried, “He who dare follow me come along with me !” For a 
minute it seemed as if every gun on the battle field was dis- 
charged at the taunting Chieftain. 

“I want to kill him !” came from the blue lips of Jessie 
Steadham as with unerring aim he drew a bead on this bold 
warrior with the charmed life. When the shot sped on with a 
mocking sound, Weatherford still unscathed, as if by magic 
raised himself again in his saddle and gave the death scream 
that had never failed to rally his warriors before. 


116 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


During- this tragedy with the Red Eagle, Major Cassells, 
who, with his command had been ordered to occupy the river 
bank failed to do so. Colonel Carson seeing the gap, thus 
produced, filled with fleeing Indians advanced his line to hem 
the retreating savages but it was too late ; they had piled out 
like bees, the women going after them, into the swamps. 
Left alone, deserted by his warriors, with an army marching 
upon him Weatherford was forced to choose between flight 
and capture. Carson had closed the gap through which he 
might have escaped, thus, leaving but one other avenue open 
the bluff that led down fifteen feet to the river below. 

Wheeling his horse with the speed of the wind the wild 
Indian boldly dashed forward to the bluff and forced his horse 
to make the leap into the river below. With a mighty bound 
the horse pitched with the gallant Chief and both were lost 
in the waves; but to rise again. Weatherford regained his 
saddle, in the water, and the noble grey swam with him to 
the Autauga side. As he reached the top of the bank he 
turned and looked towards Holy Ground and the town was 
on fire. Everything was consumed. Of all the great stores 
of provisions, that made the place seem like the land of Egypt, 
nothing was left. General Claiborne with his army camped 
at Weatherford’s plantation and the Christmas morning 
found them with naught for breakfast save parched corn. 
Having completedly routed the Indians and destroyed all 
of their property in the Holy Ground region General Clai- 
borne returned to Fort Claiborne where Carson’s volunteers 
were mustered out ; their term of service having expired. 
These noble volunteers returned home with their pay eight 
months in arrears, half-naked and bare-footed, yet withal 
were cheerful under most trying circumstances and brave 
in battle always. 


In General Jackson’s camp, near Ten Islands, things were 
going bad, for there was neither food nor fighting to be had 
at Fort Strother. Hunger and idleness going hand in hand 
have ever led to mutiny and so grand old Jackson’s soul was 
stirred at the conduct of his dissatisfied troops. 

Since the battle of Talladega, in November, the time had 
been to Jackson most harrowing. The Indians had destroyed 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


117 


the growing crops of the settlers, so there was scarcely a har- 
vest, and cattle and other provisions Weatherford had or- 
dered to his strongholds, or forts. It was not until the mid- 
dle of January, 1814, that Jackson’s army was provisioned, 
and reinforced, and the Tennesseeans given a chance to go 
into battle, the first opportunity since November 9th. These 
men were undrilled, undiscplined, and few in numbers, but 
Jackson determined to lead them to Emuckfau, a stronghold 
in a bend of the Tallapoosa river. The Indians had made a 
fort of the place and provisioned it as they had the Holy 
Ground. 

On the march to the Tallapoosa from the Coosa, Jackson 
found fresh beaten trails that indicated the proximity of a 
large Muscogee force. The following day two hundred Cher- 
okees came up to join Jackson’s command. When they saw 
the weak condition of the Tennessee army they became highly 
excited. 

On the evening of January 21st Jackson halted for the pur- 
pose of reconnoiter. Here he formed his army into a hollow 
square, built the fires some distance outside of the lines, sent 
out pickets and spies and doubled his sentinels. The spies 
returned at 11 P. M. and reported a large encampment of 
Indians thee miles away, that the warriors had sent the wo- 
men and children into dens, and that they were dancing and 
practicing incantations. Jackson warned the pickets against 
neglect of vigilance, and the men against panic in the event 
of a surprise. It was just before day when the Indians came 
creeping up and fell upon Jackson’s left flank most furiously. 
But the raw Tennesseeans met the assault bravely. General 
Coffee dashed to their assistance, and the struggle was most 
severe. As soon as it was light enough to see, General Coffee 
led the men to one of the most gallant charges of the war. It 
took a powerful force to break the savage lines. But by aid 
of the friendly Indians the Tallapoosas gave way and fled 
to the swamp. 

The main body of the Red Sticks now threw themselves 
against Jackson but the American bayonet was too much for 
them. In the meantime the enemy had returned from the 
swamp and attacked General Coffee most furiously. General 
Jackson seeing his desperate condition ordered Chief Jim 
Fife to double quick to his relief. The friendly Indians came 


118 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


up with yells, charged the hostiles who gave way and fled 
before the relentless Chief Fife and his warriors. 

While the Muscogees had been repulsed in every attempt, 
they fought with so much ferocity and courage and were ga- 
thering in such numbers Jackson decided to bury his dead, 
and gather up his wounded and hasten back to Fort Strother, 
near Ten Islands upon the Coosa. But the Red Sticks fol- 
lowed him and there was desperate fighting done. Again the 
Indians were repulsed at every attempt and the Tennessee- 
ans claimed the victory but the Indians always said : 

“We whipped Captain Jackson and ran him back to the 
Coosa River.” 

It will be remembered that after the battle of Auttose the 
Georgia army retired to the Chattahoochie. There they re- 
posed for six weeks waiting for expected supplies, and for 
General Floyd’s wound to heal. 

January 27th General Floyd feeling sufficiently recovered 
from his wound, marched with his army to the seat of war. 
On Calebee Creek, the Red Sticks who had secreted them- 
selves in the swamps sprang upon the Georgians like tigers. 
The fighting was fearful — but Indians never fight long at a 
time and after heavy losses on both sides the Indians took 
to the swamps and the Georgians return to Fort Mitchel upon 
the Chattahoochie. 

For the purpose of keeping the armies of Jackson and 
Floyd apart Weatherford made a magnificent fort of a small 
penisular formed by the Tallapoosa river, and called the fort 
Tohopeka. (Horse Shoe.) From this place he was to strike 
them separately. From there he sent McQueen with a force 
against Jackson, while he himself led the warriors against 
Floyd. And it is written that these parties got the best of 
both Jackson and Floyd. * * * 

The Red Eagle wanted time to strengthen his forces ; time 
to persuade neutral tribes to come to his aid. Already the 
Hillabees, Oefuskes, Fishponds, Oakchoies, and New Yaucas 
had reinforced him at Tohopeka, and other tribes were plan- 
ning to come in. 

Although the Indians were fighting with desperate cour- 
age no one realized more than Weatherford did, his extreme 
condition. He felt that virtually the British had gone back 


A TAL EOF A HUNDRED YEARS 


119 


on him, and that the Spaniards had proved but a disadvantage 
to him. 

Of the four Indian powers, the Chickasaws, the Choctaws, 
the Cherokees and Seminoles, only the latter had come to 
his assistance ; the first named nation played hands off while 
the Choctaws and Cherokees were going over to the Ameri- 
cans, as their faith in the American cause increased. Their 
policy was to wait and then fall in with the winning side. 
To make the great battle that was coming to Tohopeka the 
Red Eagle determined should be the battle of his life. If he 
had but time to make the fort in the bend of the Tallapoosa 
river strong enough to resist the cannon the Americans 
would turn loose against it ; if he had but time to provision 
against a long siege ; and time to gather up his warriors who 
had again returned in great numbers to their lodges he would 
lead his warriors outside the fort gates at an unlooked for 
moment and cut to death the white hordes gathered there and 
thus win the confidence of the three great red nations stand- 
ing aloof and they would come to his aid and together they 
would drive back in a solid wave the myriads of Pale-faces 
desolating the land, and the old Muscogee dream of the 
Wind Family would be realized : A united Muscogee Confed- 
eracy would be established that would rule the earth. 


Jackson’s and Floyd’s respect for Weatherford’s skill, as a 
commander, was so increased by the battle of Calebee Creek, 
and by Jackson’s last encounter with him, that they aban- 
doned the idea of meeting him separately. For subtle strat- 
egy in battle, these Generals declared history had never pro- 
duced this savage warrior’s superior. 

February 2d General Floyd retreated with his large number 
of wounded Georgians to the Chattahoochie and at Fort 
Mitchel nursed his wounded men back to health, and defend- 
ed his army from constant Indian attack. At Fort Strother, 
Jackson was building flat-boats to descend the Coosa with 
stores for the use of the new army he was waiting for them 
to raise him in Tennessee. Twice the Indians had run old 
Jackson back to the Coosa, and he swore by his life they’d 
neter do it again. 


120 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


At last, just as the flat-boats were finished, and stores 
and stores of provisions had rolled into Fort Strother, Jack- 
son heard the tramp of marching feet in great numbers. 

“It is the sound of white men marching to the drum !” he 
cried. It was the army he had begged so long and so earn- 
estly for coming to him. 

“Jackson, we are coming!” they yelled as the General at 
the head of the garrison rushed forward to meet them. 

Now Jackson bent all his energies to the task of moving 
his army. Supplies were to be moved from Fort Strother to 
the Ten Islands in the Coosa; thirty miles of corduroy road 
to be built. But at last all was ready and March 15th Jackson 
had his men lined up to begin the march for the third time 
towards the seat of war. Just as the drum beat to march 
out of Fort Strother, General Coffee, at the head of his old 
brigade, galloped into the camp amidst rousing cheers. Very 
soon another line was seen coming over the ridges. It was 
Colonel Williams with a body of six hundred regulars, who 
fell into line just as a body of Choctaws marched up. Within 
five days the much enthused army reached the mouth of Ce- 
dar Creek, which empties into the Coosa twenty miles be- 
low the present Rome, Georgia. Here the army met the boats 
from the Ten Islands ; and here Fort Williams was erected 
and named in honor of the commander of the thirty-ninth 
regiment. From this fort, Jackson began his final march 
into the center of the Muscogee nation. Across the ridge 
which divides the Coosa and Tallapoosa rivers General Jack- 
son marched at the head of two thousand men, and reached 
the neighborhood of the enemy in three days. The road was 
cut out as the army travelled across the ridges. 

Inside Fort Tohopeka, when Weatherford’s spies dashed 
in and reported “a white army marching in solid phalanx 
from the Coosa to the Tallapoosa,” the Chieftain felt like a 
panther driven to his lair. He felt this, was his last effort, 
and that he was not ready for it. His splendid breastwork 
was finished and the fort was well provisioned but his war- 
riors had not gathered in sufficient numbers to meet Jackson’s 
army that was constantly being reinforced. Standing in the 
midst of his braves he numbered them ; only a thousand fight- 
ing warrors were there. Looking beyond them he saw their 
wives and children. Turning to his braves, he said, “Warriors, 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


121 


it is compulsory upon none of you to keep your papooses 
and women here against their will. If you so desire there is 
yet time to carry them across the river into the woods, but the 
warrior who dares to linger with his family shall lose his life. 
If we must die we can die like brave men. Let Weatherford’s 
enemies say what they please ; that he fights to indulge his 
thirst for blood; for revenge; for avarice; for jealous rage! 
But Weatherford knows that he fights to save his country.” 

With exultation on their faces the warriors shouted ap- 
proval. Then the Red Eagle reared his head and said, “Let’s 
sweep the veil from our sight and see the victory won !” 

“Ho! Ho!” shouted the warriors. The Chieftain falters, 
he presses his hand to his brow. “But if,” he said, “when 
each Warrior has done his best and the Eagle screams his 
signal, ‘to the boats’ the boats will be able to carry the living 
ones down the river to the cane brakes and forests to make 
their way to Florida. Haste, now each of you, to the duty 
that rises before you.” 

Near to Weatherford, dressed in the garb she most com- 
monly assumed as a spy, the fantastic garb of an Indian youth, 
was the great grand-daughter of Henri de Wolfe, who had 
espoused the woman wearing the necklace of red beads and 
alligator's teeth the night the garrison from Fort Toulouse 
attended the barbaric dance at the Indian town, Coosawda. 
“Thelma Wolfe,” said Weatherford, turning to this strange 
woman, who yet, withal, had some fine endowments of heart 
and mind, “Is it your desire to cross the river and seek the 
protection the forest affords, or stay you here?” 

“I will say me here,” she said. And so said all the women. 

On the morning of March 27th, 1814, a great fog circled 
up from the river and enveloped the fort in a white mist. 

“Prophet,” said Weatherford to Francis in the early dawn, 
“put your ear to the earth and tell me what you hear.” Obey- 
ing the order, Francis said: 

“I hear the tramp of many feet.” 

“Listen again — what is it?” 

“I hear the white man’s music.” 

After a space, out of the silence, there came to the ears of 
all — “Tramp, tramp, tramp,” and the murmur that goes with 
an army, and sound of the rolling drums. 


122 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED ^ EARS 


Leading, General Jackson turned to General Coffee and 
said, “very soon we will reach the Lion’s lair.” 

“I thirst to hear him roar,” said Coffee, and the jest put 
them into a laugh, and the fifers tuned out merrily and the 
fog lifted and suddenly before their astonished eyes was To- 
hopeka. A shout went up from the troops, and Weatherford 
on the inside heard General Jackson’s command, “Halt!” 
After that it was very still outside and nothing was heard 
but the men breathing. 

Jackson, after most harrassing trials, at last found himself 
in front of the enemy he had so longed to meet. 

He had about two thousand men with him, the rest having 
been sent to posts it was necessary to strengthen. With his 
officers he went over the ground and he said, “This Toho- 
peka is both a good, and a bad place. If we get in we have 
the rat in his hole, but how are we to surmount such breast- 
works? I have never seen any fortification to equal it.” 

“The bold savage is a military genius,” sand General Cof- 
fee, who himself was a great general without knowing it. 
The fort lay about half way down the Tallapoosa river whose 
waters almost circled the hundred acres of ground upon 
which the fort was built. Across the neck of this bend, 
or small peninsula, the Red Sticks had thrown up breastwork 
that rivaled any breastwork in America. It was built of huge 
timbers with port-holes arranged to expose assailants to an 
unendurable cross-fire. The plan was drawn after the man- 
ner of educated military engineers. Inside the fort there 
were fortifications of log-heaps and of the earth, and care 
vcas taken in the position of the houses within the enclosure. 
As a means of retreat into the forests, canoes were fastened 
along the river bank. During Weatherford’s visit to Mobile 
and Pensacola he had studied well the principles of fortifi- 
cation, and Weatherford had planned Fort Tohopeka. 

At 10 A. M. General Coffee with his cavalry, and Colonel 
Gideon Morgan with his Cherokees, forded the Tallapoosa 
two miles below the breastwork and from the eastern side 
occupied a continuous line around the curve. When General 
Coffee signalled General Jackson that he had taken his po- 
sition Jackson marched with the remainder of his force di- 
rectly towards the breastwork and planted his two light 
field-pieces, one of them a three-pounder and the other a six- 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


123 


pounder, eighty yards distant from the great wall of defense 
and opened upon the fort. The cannot shot plunged into the 
breastwork at every discharge, but the great wall never 
blinked. The Indians inside set up yells of exultation and 
jeers and poured out death from the port-holes. Jackson w'as 
desperate. 

“Let us scale the breastwork !” cried Lemuel P. Montgom- 
ery, and Sam Houston, Davie Crocket, Sam Dale, Jere Austill, 
Jim Smith, Sam McNac, Ike Heaton, the Steadhams, and 
those who had made their escape in the smoke from Fort 
Mims took up the cry. 

“To storm the breastwork,” shouted Jackson, “is certain 
death !” and he wrung his hands and ordered another dis- 
charge of the artillery and the riflemen added their fire, but 
with no effect. At every discharge of the artillery the In- 
dians yelled with fiercer exultation. 

“Storm the works!” cried Jackson. 

When the fife shrilled them to the charge a solid sheet of fire 
poured from the port-holes. The men surged like a tide to 
meet it. That sight is the grandest, awfullest thing the war 
has to show. The line pressed closer together as a man drop- 
ped out. Colonel Williams’ regulars, with the Tennesseeans 
and other soldiers rushed upon the breastwork ; the first man 
upon the parapet was Major Lemuel Montgomery. He stood 
erect but a single moment when he reeled and fell dead. Sam 
Houston went down next, horribly wounded ; the regulars fell ; 
the Tennesseeans; yet still they grappled with the savages. 
At last under trailing clouds of glory Jackson saw his men 
going over the top and the breastwork was carried. Then 
the tide of battle like a great red sea rolled on in billows of 
the Red-man’s blood and the Pale-faces lifted their voices and 
shouted “Victory !” 

Weatherford heard the cry and he lifted himself and sang 
“the death song” in a chord that turned every warrior into a 
being that hurled defiance at death as they threw themselves 
with renewed fury against the Americans. 

But what means that awful cry, that woe from the woman 
in the rear? Silently had Colonel Morgan’s Cherokees swam 
under water, fired the houses and made a furious attack on 
the rear. When the Indians saw their village on fire they 
went into wildest panic but fought on like maddened beasts 


124 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


and scorned all offers of peace. They remembered Mims and 
thought there’d be no mercy shown them when once they 
were in the white man’s power. 

When Weatherford signalled “to the boats,” they dashed to 
the water’s edge but the boats were gone, stolen by the Cher- 
okees. 

“The bells have tolled the death of our nation,” said Wea- 
therford. 

“No!” shouted Senota, “give the rallying call!” 

“I do not want to see the last warrior give his body as car- 
rion to tomorrow’s dogs,” said Weatherford. 

When the sun went down and the bugle called that the 
fight was over, every Indian that could walk or crawl had 
plunged into the river, most of them to be shot by General 
Coffee’s men. Not an Indian surrendered. Dying warriors 
would strike out of pools of blood at the troops within 
their reach. When night came on and covered up the ghostly 
battlefield, McQueen and Francis silently stole from under 
a pile of dead and made their escape to the river and from 
the river into the forests and on to Florida where with other 
escaping Muscogees they united themselves with the Semi- 
noles. 

Weatherford, after he’d signalled to the boats and discov- 
ered they were gone was among the last to take the river. 
He made his escape by swimming under water and retreated 
to his den at the Eagle Rock in the neighborhood of the Holy 
Ground. For days he was there alone. When the warriors 
thought him dead he suddenly appeared among them and 
found that they had been going to Jackson one by one, lay- 
ing down their broken bows, and that the iron-hearted Chief- 
tain had declared to them that unless they carried the Red 
Eagle to him bound, he would make no peace with the nation. 
There was not a suggestion of despair in Weatherford’s face 
when he heard this but a look of relief, or rather of triumph 
that it was left to him to die for the remnant of his people. 
To the warrior, ordered to bear him bound to Jackson, he 
said “Go, when tomorrow’s sun rises, and tell General Jack- 
son that you can take Weatherford’s gun, and his knife and 
his life, but that you cannot take Weatherford bound to any 
man.” 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


125 


In the meantime, the day after the destruction of the last 
Indian stronghold, General Jackson sank his dead in the Tal- 
lapoosa river and removed his army to the Hickory Ground 
upon the Coosa and cleaned out the old French trenches and 
erected a new fort called Fort Jackson upon the site of the 
old French fort, Toulouse. It was in this bannered fort in 
sight and sound of the Tumbling Waters that General Jack- 
son sat with his chosen councilors feeling the golden glow 
of victory. Nearest the white Chieftain stood the stalwart 
forms of Coffee and Carroll ; across the latter’s brow were 
scars unhealed. 

Young Armstrong, from his wounds, lay in a reclining po- 
sition still too feeble to stand. Captain Bradford was near 
him, and a little to themselves were Colonel Williams and 
General Gideon Morgan. And there were younger officers 
there whose faces still beamed with battles won. Jackson 
sat there calm and stern and bore a nation’s fate. One by 
one the defeated warriors were still coming in to lay their 
broken bows at his feet. Sullen and sad they looked with 
the smouldering fire of an undying hatred in their eyes. 
Their broken bows and bleeding wounds presented a sad, sad, 
sight. When the Chiefs entered who were Jackson’s mes- 
sengers to Weatherford and bore not their Chieftain bound, 
to the white General, an angry flush rested upon his brow, 
and he said, “Where is the Red hound who sends his war- 
riors back alone — to die?” 

It was then the dethroned king entered the bannered 
tent and stood silent and grand before his conquerors. 

Fascinated, every eye was fastened upon him. 

“Who are you?” cried Jackson. 

“The Red Eagle,” the Chief replied. 

“Hah! And dost thou seek refuge at Fort Jackson?” 

“No ! The Eagle soars to meet the Sun.” 

“I like not this — I bade them bring thee to me bound — to 
die a felon’s death!” 

With a dramatic movement, natural to Weatherford, the 
soul unconquered lifted and gleamed into Jackson’s and 
awoke a sense of pain and his heart stirred and he offered 
him a chair but by a quick movement of the hand the Red 
Eagle refused it. 


126 


A TALE OF A HUNDRED YEARS 


“By Heavens!” cried the white man. “I’d die a thousand 
deaths before I’d see thee doomed to a felon’s grave.” * * * 

Jackson, looking into his councillor’s faces saw they, too, 
were responding to high and Holy things. Advancing to the 
Indian he took his hand and said, “Chieftain, I grant thee 
freedom.” 

Accepting the offered hand Weatherford said, “In my boy- 
hood’s morning time my mother taught me to tread on free- 
dom’s starry paths. In fiery danger she allowed no shield 
before my breast. 

In scenes of strife and blood she brought me up. Though 
weak and woupded oft she bade me stand foremost till the 
field was won. I am ready to die. I count not my life dear to 
itself : Accept it for my nation.” 

“Weatherford,” said Jackson, “Peace is granted to thy na- 
tion.” 


(Mrs.) PATTI E STONE, 

No. 2 Cedar Bluff, Ala. 










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